Code Twilight: Renesmee of the Insurrection
by The Lordaeron Paladin
Summary: Code Geass/Twilight/Command and Conquer: Tiberium crossover. Looks like Lelouch is Not Quite Dead after all, and when the Cullen and Volturi vampires are involved, things are going to get far more complicated than anyone would want. Chapter 7 up! T-rated.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **A crossover between Code Geass, Twilight, and a whole lot more!

** Disclaimer:** All characters belong to their respective owners:

+ Code Geass, C.C and Lelouch/Zero belongs to Sunrise Entertainment. And CLAMP.  
+ Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer, of course.  
+ Tsukihime and all related stuffs are proud products of TYPE-MOON.  
+ CnC: Tiberium Wars, Dr. Ignatio Mobius, the Black Hands and the legendary Mammoth Mk-III "Armor Superiority" tank came into this world thanks to EA Games.  
+ Finally, Neverwinter and its people owe their existence to Bioware and the Dungeon and Dragons predecessors.

* * *

**Prologue**

**The Vampire's Gift of Geass**

His name is Edward Cullen. And he's a vampire. Which means immortality. Which means superpower that even the Dark Knight and Green Lantern had to envy. And which means, somehow, he just has to undergo the horrors of high school for all eternity in the most literal sense – boring, bossy teacher who is anywhere from half to a third his own age, classmates who act out in the silliest way imaginable, at least when you have ten times their age and at least that many times their wisdom. And not to mention _high-school romance_ as they call it. Something he could barely understand, if at all, judging from the deadly twisted flow of blood taking root in his veins rather than real, nourishing blood, the inhumanly venom that makes even the slightest romantic thought morbid and/or actually deadly. Ouch. Just… ouch.

Still, as long as he went to school, his superiority in all aspect that an average student needed to survive the blasted place meant that he could stay there for as long as he wanted. His perfectly teenage form is to be blamed though – had his maturity not remained in that flesh cover of a 17-year-old who needed to go to school to avoid trouble, he would have been better off somewhere else. Like a castle in Central Europe? Or an underground warren? Or an alchemist's lab? Or better still, he's heard that there is a certain… mercenary group called the Black Hand of Nod that might need some help – good one, but not for children, they said, because "white phosphorus flame is not to be tinkered about by the inexperienced, says Kane."

At least there's a good point – he wouldn't need to fear a certain famed Burial vampire huntress by the name Ciel to mistake him for her blood enemy and proceed to slash him in half with her world-vampire-famous Black Key Technique.

And then something happened. Something… out of the world, even to the most out-of-the-world creature that the human race has ever encountered. Something that would change his life forever, in a way foreign to his own, age-fortified wisdom. Something that took him by surprise on the street on the way back home from school one day, in the form of an armored warrior from another dimension. That sounded too insane to be true, but it did happen.

"In the name of Tyr," a voice called out from virtually behind him, whence he was sure there was absolutely nothing just a minute ago, "let Justice be delivered! Death to the evil!"

Promptly twisting back, Edward's eyes caught the visage of a… woman. A beautiful one, when he was at it. That is, if a vampire could see an elven – that ear was unmistakable - knight in full paladin armor, with a longsword and a shield of Order to fit, with holy magic in her hands to boost it all with as beautiful – not sunlight, which makes him sparkle, but holy magic. The kind of glow as in crosses and holy water that can actually cause his kind to _melt_, as if caught in the epicenter of a nuclear explosion. And from the look on her face, she would not hesitate to throw that mass of as-poisonous-as-uranium-radiation magic at him at the smallest provocation with the sole purpose of eradication.

"Who… are you?" demanded Edward. "What do you want with me?"

"Aribeth de Tylmarande, the proud Elven Paladin in service of the Even Handed God of Justice and the city of Neverwinter," replied the attacker ceremoniously, as she gathered energy in her palm, glowing threateningly to the vampire. "In the name of the Just God, I have come here to help eradicate the universe of the vile spawn of Darkness!"

An instinctively survivalistic barrel roll took Edward aside, as the elven knight raised her hands, chanting loudly in an unknown language, as if in praise of her patron god, and then let loose a colorful spray of light from the Higher Heaven right on the slab of pavement he was standing on a second ago. His move was a wise one – the intensity of the aurous beam was sufficient to leave a burning mark on the asphalt, which would as well incinerate him had he not stepped aside.

And then the column of light actually _shifted_ towards him, as if itself being an incarnation of a vampire-seeking particle beam cannon, searing the asphalt as it moved right on him, bent on swallowing him whole. He promptly swerved out of its way as it closed on him, just in time so that the beam cannon of holy magic could sear part of his hair and bleach a significant portion of his collar. So much for his new attire, just gotten in his 104th birthday.

The next danger came to his awareness as a cutting pain in his arm, as the armored woman glided towards him, catching him defenseless following the maneuver, and, with a speed no less superhuman than his own, slashed him across his right arm in a move positively disarming enough to put that appendage out of service for some time. Simultaneously did the pain and the astonishment hit him, causing an involuntary flinch.

As if there was time to recover, for the next attack by the warrior-woman aimed straight for his _heart_ of all places, just when he was out of momentum to carry out any further maneuvers. The way that elven Aribeth de Tylmarande glided through the air was no less professional than the vampire hunters he and his kind feared. The next thought left him rather numb – was this attacker, by any chance, happened to be a Burial agent in disguise? If so, he was doomed for sure.

And he was going to be, that's for certain. The sudden attack left him no other place to run, except for… death?

"Lelouch Vi Britannia Commands: Stop where you are!"

A sudden, dramatically sharp and commanding voice sprang up in the opposite direction, in a tone readily translated as springing from social and/or capacity superiority, that went over his shoulder from behind, at such an intensity that it cut him from the mortal danger for half a second. And when he was back in sense, strangely, his chest felt no pain of a vampire being culled with a certain something nailed through his heart. He was safe and sound, an improbability judging from how close to the verge of destruction he had been just a second ago.

As if it wasn't clear enough, Edward sprang backwards, and his next glance at his pursuer revealed a sight unlike anything he had been previously acquainted to. There his attacker stood before him, her sword and shield still in her hand, but her face no longer bore any sense of danger to him. She had been absolutely entranced, her elven eyes turning slightly red, her arms dangling down motionlessly, her armor frozen where it was, as if completely seized by something too odd to be true.

_The voice._

The notion hit Edward sooner than enough, following the footsteps coming towards him in rhythm – whoever was approaching must have had the habit to execute everything in style. Whether that was good or bad, he didn't know. But it was fabulous, and especially so when Edward whipped himself backward to face the newcomer.

It turned out that Edward's savior – if he was right – was someone, as so it seemed superficially, even more inferior to him than his classmates. At least the so-called _hot boys_ in class knew how to stand tall and raise some muscles. This chap was a complete gnome, standing more than eight inches shorter than Edward, at most, and from the look of his skinny form, Edward would not be surprised if he couldn't lift something heavier than two stones. Screw his vampire powers, even with bare fists, he could punch a hole in his skull in a fraction of a second.

But then, the American standard on significance of strength is not always right. Didn't Edward himself look down on those jocks at school because they didn't know squat except for showing off their muscles to girls and wooing the ladies? But this… newcomer, he was something different. The intellect flashing from his eye was of such a high level that Edward would not be astonished if the stranger was any way more intelligent, or even _wiser_ than himself. It felt as if God had created an ultra-misbalance, by alleviating the mental attributes of a person to such a level that his physical shell was even lesser than that of an ordinary geek.

And his garment was the peek of extravaganza. Skip that amazingly long sword he held over his shoulder, which Edward doubted he must have lifted with all due difficulties, the white robe he bore was such that no other garment on earth could have matched its uniquely luxury and ceremoniousness. It was the clothing even kings and queens would wear only sparingly, in special occasions where they are the center of the limelight. How, or why, he got to wear such an item on the suburban streets of Forks was questionable in its own rights.

"The female Lord Paladin of the Neverwintan Temple of Tyr was more… susceptible than I thought," the figure spoke when he was within an arm's length from a still perplexed Edward. "No, let me correct. Geass is THAT powerful."

"It is impolite to barge in without introducing yourself," Edward reminded.

All at once the visage turned to him – the brownish-black hair of a youngster no older than Edward's own physical appearance, however vivid it was, could do squat to hide the fact that his form was _ethereal_ in appearance, that of a dead person reanimated into a wondering soul without a destination, or, rather, not wishing to contain himself in a destination yet. Or was it the estranged look of the "ghost from the future" as depicted in human speculative fiction that Edward was seeing? Or the unexisting-yet-existing appearance of a planeswalker, a stalker of dimensions, a traveler of different universes? Or both? One thing he was certain of, that person who had saved him was both there and not there – he was real, and yet not real in a sense.

"_Watashi wa Ruruushu Ranperuuji desu,_" replied the figure in a language Edward didn't know, but perhaps that was done for kicks, for a translation was produced right afterwards. "I am called… Lelouch Lamperouge by my enemies and friends alike. Unless you prefer Lelouch Vi Britannia, which I don't."

"What an odd name… for an odd visage that goes," Edward said.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Lelouch replied, dipping his blade on the pavement symbolically. "In an age when war is carried out by Knightmare frames, that is not uncommon a name."

"I don't know what you are talking about, but thanks nevertheless for saving my life just now," Edward replied, concealing his pondering. "But I must ask you the reason why you saved me. If you know who that woman is, you must also know that I am…"

"A vampire. A wretched human by a certain standard. A heavily built warrior capable of shredding a Glasgow-class Knightmare Frame into pieces with his bare hands in seconds by another," Lelouch Lamperouge nodded. "And often, fate has its own ways of telling humanity to stop, by leaving the destiny of mankind into the hands of creatures not human themselves."

"What is your point?" Edward asked back.

"I am here to inform you of an important fact," Lelouch said, gazing straight into Edward's eyes, "as well as to give you an offer."

"What fact? What offer?" Edward's curiosity blurted.

"It is actually not _you_ that destiny is dealing with," Lelouch answered, "but rather the person you will call your wife, and the girl you will sire with her. A certain Renesmee, whom, interestingly, isn't even born yet."

"May I ask you if there is any point to this story?" Edward spoke, his patience drying up rather quickly.

"You are to meet a _human_ schoolgirl in school sooner than you may think, Edward Cullen, and you will have to love her. And make her love you in the same time," Lelouch answered promptly, as if the matter was one simple enough. "Bella Swan. Remember that name."

"What if… I don't love her?" Edward asked back, his vampiric eyes bewildered. "I haven't loved a _single_ woman in my whole life with courtly love, for your information."

"You can do, or you can die," Lelouch shook his head adamantly. "Today or tomorrow, a woman, an elder one, when I am at it, will consult you, by the name of Esem. She will basically order you to love her, in a manner not as peacefully as I am doing now, I'm afraid."

"What? Who do you think you are, threatening me like that?" Edward roared mildly.

"Don't you understand how you survived the influenza in the 1918s? How many humans are lucky enough to have such a fate? Don't you think you are a little bit _too_ lucky for your own good? Isn't it _too_ coincidental that your adoptive parents happen to be _vampires_ of all people, who happen to be right there and then to help you when everyone else dies?"

Lelouch Lamperouge's account struck Edward's soft spot. Many a time he had wondered what would have happened if all that luck hadn't been his. Not that he had a reason to care – he was now living extremely happily with his parents, albeit adoptive ones, and there was actually no issue with that, at least in the near future. The notion of the question and the complete lack of answer thereof tumbled Edward into a state of entrancement for a good while.

"Esem is the essence of the Word of God, Edward Cullen," Lelouch calmly explained. "She basically is responsible for grafting events in place, where it is supposed to be, so that you can stand here before me, rather than dying in one of those cramped mass graves. So that Fate will take its due course," Lelouch sighed. "But alas, even she does not understand what Fate is all about, and she has her own purpose."

"What would you say if I tell you I don't understand a thing from what you have said?" Edward spurned.

"Esem basically _created_ you, Edward Cullen," Lelouch replied, with a mild disappointment. "Her purpose is to create a shining example of how love between a human and a vampire can come to triumph. Of how… romantic and heartwarming True Love can get. And for that purpose, if she finds you… unsuitable for that cause, as in, if you can't love the woman she wants you to, she can completely unwrite your history, uncreating Edward Cullen the Vampire totally, and that isn't beautiful at all, both to you… and to me," emphasized Lelouch. "And MY world, when I am at it."

"What are you babbling?" Edward asked, but Lelouch's so-serious-it-looked-scary ice-cold look froze him in place. "Alright, so if I am to believe you, and I do like you say, throw myself at that Bella girl as if I love her – don't know if I will, but that's quite unlikely – what if she doesn't love me?"

"That is where my offer comes in," Lelouch stepped forth, standing barely a foot from Edward, as he shot a glance at the now-frozen Aribeth de Tylmarande. "You saw this woman, didn't you?"

"She tried to kill me," Edward nodded. "And it looked like it was you who stopped her."

"Yes, I admit. It would be way too ugly if the fate of the world is laid on the shoulder of a _dead_ vampire," Lelouch answered. "I stopped her by the power of Geass – the power to force a command of absolute obedience on another being. I ordered her to, for this instance, stop right in her track, before she could kill you."

"How do you pronounce that again?" Edward rolled his eyes. "Gearass?"

"_Geass_," repeated Lelouch with double the integrity.

"Wait," Edward gasped. "Did you just say "absolute control" or did I hear it wrong?"

"Yes, I did, and I mean it," Lelouch gave a sly grin. "With this power, I can, with some minor limitations, of course, tell people to do whatever I want them to, _including ordering them to love me_ even though I never do that myself. But you can, and you will. That is my offer – give you my gift of Geass, for you to keep the cogs in its place."

"And what exactly am I supposed to do?" Edward asked.

"Simple," Lelouch smiled, a rather evil smile. "It is easy to have a girl love you when you can basically rewrite her entire mindset, that you are her one and only true love, isn't it? Unless, of course, you are foolish enough to not understand what I say."

"Brainwashing?" gasped Edward.

"Hypnotizing, brain grafting, brainwashing, entrancing… you name it."

"That is too inhuman and gruesome a power to have!" remarked Edward, his eyes bewildered with a certain degree of disgust. "I shall not take that gift that will rip freedom of the mind from those I know!"

"Do you think you have a choice?" Lelouch's grin at this point looked almost diabolical in its look to Edward Cullen, a degree of evilness he had never seen before, a purposeful, lawful evil, something quite scary enough to drive the powerful vampire back at the sheer look of the skinny being. The winged, unfamiliar sigil taking the place of his inner iris looked dead serious to Edward, what it meant, Edward had better not think about. "Would you want to do it yourself, or would you want ME to GEASS YOU into DOING it?"

******

Edward still couldn't believe what was happening, even today, even now, when the teacher was announcing the presence of the new girl, Bella Swan, into his class. Even now he wished to believe what Lelouch had told him was a lie, that he didn't possess the curse of that diabolical figure, that his eye did not turn into the deformed mockery of its former self by now, with a friggin' _sigil_ embedded onto it, visible whenever he just looked into the mirror very closely. It was nothing very noticeable, but just the sign of a foreign object in his body made him feel somewhat squeamish.

_Geass._

He tried it more than once already, and it worked every time, a frightening efficiency. Although he hadn't gone too far with them, if he could make the neighborhood paperboy hand over his entire crate of delivery – which he later fulfilled – he could have very well make him plunge a pen knife into his chest in a stylish way. Judging from the dreamy, reddish eyes he had when the deed was done, he wouldn't care less even if the order would cost him his life. A very efficient tool, were him Dracula or the likes, and he was not – Chaotic Good is far from Chaotic Evil.

_Geass._

He didn't seem to have a lot of choices then, and not even later. Albeit, it might be true that Ruroushu Ranperouji had exaggerated it a lot. Esem, as he met her later on in the day, was not really scary in either look or demeanor, though her fervent belief in what she thought was right, however improbable, was too strong, rendering it impossible to actually convince her of the scheme's impossibility. And if he was right about the entire uncreation stuff… it would be better not to try, after all. In the end, he simply was forced to love this Bella Swan, as well as her to love him, by more than one belligerent.

_Geass._

For some reason, that five-letter-word could now no longer escape his mind, as if it had been embedded into his brain, like a brain bug as depicted in movies and films all over.

"_True love, and Renesmee "Carlie" Bi Britannia,"_ Edward wrestled with his thought. _"As if I could care more about it…"_

Only then did the classroom door open, and into the room came a visage, one that would change his life forever…

******


	2. Turn 1

**A/N:** In this chapter you'll see what happens when what Lelouch planned didn't quite happen as he has planned. Esem's female characters, as it appears, doesn't live life quite the same way as those in his own world.

How the Shinkirou frame survived will be explained in C. 2. In any case, please inform me if Lulu does get OOC.

Thanks, and let the read begin!

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**Turn 1**

**  
Lelouch's Discovery**

The ruined streets of Tokyo was hauntingly empty. One year after everything supposedly ended, the scar of war, death, destruction and pain of humanity's costliest war was nowhere near healing. After all, a war that had claimed more than a hundred million lives all across the world was not going to end without its far and wide impact, hampering on the race's most earnest effort to patch up the wounded lands and bring about true lasting peace.

But humanity's survivalism was the key redeeming quality, and, like after every other war before, the survivors were ever ready to rebuild everything from scraps. Now, within the ruins of the old Tokyo and the sprouting buds of the new, changes could be seen almost daily, as the city rebuilt itself around the Ashford Academy, the very school that had seen the rise to power of the most enigmatic figure of the modern world.

Lelouch vi Britannia. Lelouch Lamperouge. The Black Demon Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire. He who "both destroyed worlds and created them".

Even now, when everything had been past and historians and bards began to band together to evaluate the true vices and virtues of Zero, opinions about the exiled Prince of Britannia were extremely diverse. Some saw him as a war criminal of worse profile than all tyrants of the world summed up. Some other considered him as a tragic hero, whose plight to save the world in his own way unfortunately brought about both the fall of the world order and his own demise. A few even went so far as condemning him to be the Antichrist, the incarnation of the Devil, while their opposite numbers trashed those comments completely, instead claiming him to be the saintly-intentioned Messiah that wasn't.

But there was something that historians all agreed. In his death, and a well-calculated one indeed, Lelouch vi Britannia had paid for his crimes, and with his own blood laid the foundation for a better world to come.

But was the world supposed to be as peaceful as it now appeared to be? No.

Or so thought that singular, stoically silent figure trudging through the broken debris where the Tokyo Settlement once stood. It was a miracle that the debris was even there – the detonation of a FLEIJA warhead two year ago at that very spot had well claimed the lives of thirty-plus million lives, as well as vaporizing most, sentient or not, things within the blast radius and reduced what it hadn't to the point of unrecognizability. Ground Zero. Not a pretty sight.

In direct contrast to that dreary and morbid scenario, the figure was quite well clad – his white, studded robe was as good as regal, the kind of ceremonial garment only reserved to the most powerful figures of the political world. His jet black, uncombed black hair came in direct contrast with his tired, pale complexion, the signs of a physically impaired person whose health was nothing too stable. Eyebrows raised, mouth shut, his high cheek coordinating all those features in a fine, tell-tale combination.

His eyes scanned around the place, with the regretful glare of a person bearing avid resentment with his own past decisions. In that glare one could find a plethora of different emotions other than that – hope and despair stood side by side, while a solid, well-founded disappointment and impatience drowned the outline of those irises. Had it not been for those complex emotions and the dark-and-brooding pace he twitched his head about he placed on show, his visage would have been perfect, that perfection of a childlike face bordering cuteness in its every expression.

That face had made the headline many times, and especially so in the months he had been wearing that regal robe. The face that had both brought hope and trashed them, that had both made people cry out in happiness and plunged them in deepest of terror, that had seen both the rise of the world and its fall, that of the Black Prince, Lelouch vi Britannia.

_Lelouch vi Britannia_. Sometimes he hated his own name, even now when he was no longer alive. It was not a strange effect – after all, the man by that name had killed more people than there are seconds in the year, and the past was exceedingly unforgiving.

He was dead. That was a matter of fact. But somehow, passing away from life and passing on to a next plane of incarnation are two different matters entirely. One year has passed since that day, and yet he was still around there, trudging the streets of the ruined Tokyo, as if trying to redeem himself for a final time before perishing into the unknown, like many other earthbound spirits wandering aimlessly through the ruins of war, those who have no qualms against ganging up and lynch him the moment they saw him.

Unfortunately, those dead spirits were more than abundant, as the FLEIJA bomb had made its run more successfully than designed to. Fortunately, their strength of will were uniformly mediocre at most, such that their appearance in the real world could never even be as vividly as his own, let alone openly approach him and start lynching him the way he deserved.

But he knew that he was different from those lots. In a mildly disturbing way. No, he was not there wandering the streets in regret of not having lived a full life or of his untimely death. He was not even there to atone for his arguably genocidal crimes. He was there, because his duty in life hadn't yet been fulfilled.

_"Zero Requiem,"_ silently muttered the fallen emperor. _"When will it ever be done?"_

The pain was not physical, yes. Not that he had any physical body any longer to feel the pain – the sense of the daily wander now was so appalling that he sometimes felt that compared to that fate, the flame of Hell would have been way more comfortable to bear. Being rejected by both Heaven and Hell of entry was never a desirable fate for one thing. But being detained in the mortal plane of existence until he could find a person to complete what plans he had set out but couldn't fulfill was another.

It had been a year, and Lelouch was still waiting for the person to come. One year was enough to either cancel out hope and call for quit, in that situation. Even being the mastermind Lelouch was, his patience was running dry.

"Where ARE you, Renesmee Cullen?" Lelouch found himself screaming out loud. "What in the name of the gods are you doing?"

There was just one way to find out – to meet the girl in question.

_"Thank you, C.C,"_ Lelouch nodded gratefully. _"This new Geass you granted me will be more useful than it might seem..."_

******

Forks, Washington.

The year was 2015. It had been well ten years since Bella and Edward Cullen got married. And happily, it seemed. In a world without Knightmare Frames, without the Holy Britannian Empire, without the cursed resource of Sakuradite, with neither Zero or the Knight of Zero, where the name Lelouch Lamperouge was nonexistent, there was basically nothing that could tumble up the lives of the everyday "vegetarian" vampires of the three-thousand-people quiet township. Whatever happened in the other alternative dimension, even if the whole of that world would blow up, they wouldn't even know, let alone be affected.

It was still quite a miracle how the Cullens hid away the marriage between their daughter and their best friend. Had it not been for Renesmee's seventeen-year-old appearance, there would be no way they could have hidden away that awkward marriage before the police and other human rights activists threatening to blow their vampire cover at any moment. Still, a seven-year-old getting married was something rather disturbing by nature, and they could only be glad they all got away with it.

Renesmee now belonged to Jacob Black, being his faithful and caring spouse, and soon would bear his child, although "soon" wouldn't mean within the foreseeable future – Renesmee, after all, hadn't yet been prepared for "the consummated relationship", let alone children. But of one thing she was doubtless. With all the care and love that Jacob showers her with, the girl-woman was worshiping him not like an elder, not like a husband, not even like a lover, but more like a deity. The fact was more than reciprocated from his prospect- anyone wanting to take her away from him would have to pry her from his cold-dead corpse, be it another man, a monster, a company of soldiers, or even a Britannia-made Lancelot Mark II Knightmare Frame completed with a plethora of state-of-the-art vibroweapons and equipped with a FLEIJA device.

It as an evening like many others – Renesmee was sleeping alone in her room, a fact a little awkward for a married woman. Her maturity being that of a seventeen-year-old, sometimes her chronological age still took its due – her occasional nightmares meant that Jacob's presence on the other bed was more like that of a guardian than a lover. All too often her nightmares were greeted with the unique kindness and protection no one else in the world could give her. For the quick-to-mature girl, that was all she needed for a husband.

It was then that the meddler by the name Lelouch vi Britannia entered her dream in yet another arguable nightmare of hers, the easiness of dimensional and dream traveling being the trademark of his new Geass power, granted to him by C.C as a parting present, as well as a means for him to accomplish the seemingly impossible. The Dreamwalker and Parallel Manipulator Geass - Paradise of those wanting to take a leap into another person's wildest dreams and bend it to their will, regardless of planes of existence.

As soon as he had landed safely within Renesmee's dream realms, Lelouch was granted a nasty surprise. So put off Lelouch was at her plain look alone that the 99th Holy Britannian Emperor froze in place for a couple of seconds as he gazed at her. Had it not been for his proven trust in C.C, he would have been inclined to think that his ally had tricked him. In all honesty, Lelouch had expected to meet with a _nine-year-old_ half his height and size rather than a fully-grown young lady, whose beauty – Lelouch muttered a silent apologetic muse to his deceased half-sister as he thought – put Euphemia to shame.

The clever warlord then quietly recalculated his coordinates, hoping to find a logical explanation in the discovery. There was none – his transition to Renesmee Cullen's dream had been flawless in execution, which didn't help. But admitting that the girl… woman standing before him was the Renesmee he was looking for was as hard-to-digest as being force-fed a mouthful of cheese without anything to wash it down – sticky, choking, and hard to swallow. After all, his purpose of that journey was ultimately to persuade Renesmee to leave her world and follow him back to the Britannian timeline, whereas she would join the Insurrection to take over Britannia, as a first step to reinstate a new, lasting world order. Judging from the current situation, that purpose wouldn't be realized anytime soon.

Finally Lelouch gathered the courage to swallow that mouthful, but that wasn't the end of the not-so-sweet surprise. Having expected to meet a strong-willed, steel-hearted child-genius with an intelligence the same as his own, eager to take and fulfill responsibility, Lelouch was more than astonished when what he saw, as he took a second glance at her shape in the blurry background of the realms of dream. The generic, flower-filled cloverfield filled the background, the signature of a loving, innocent heart, with the girl dancing gracefully amidst the flowers, without paying any attention to the surrounding. Her mood was dreamy and absorbed, entranced by her own fantasy, a fantasy, needless to say, far different from that which he would wish her to do.

A tell-tale sign of a merrily wed woman with complete contentment in her life, it seemed.

Not that Lelouch was allergic to the bed of fluffy clovers. No, he was not sadistic by default, although many historians were now dying to tarnish his name further with that title following what he had done in those two earth-shaking conflicts. The last time he remembered, the frowned Geass he bore had no soul corrupting effects. But with his objective in mind, how the child prodigy he expected to collect and groom up to be a perfect leader of the people of Britannia and the world as a whole now turned out to be that kind of happy-go-lucky married _woman_ whose serenity in each and every move told of peace and happiness was unexpected at least, and illogical at most. And irritating to his master-strategist brain as well, when he was at it.

It took Lelouch Lamperouge a full minute and all his courage – a more or less unprecedented event, noting his spontaneous decision in almost everything of importance in his past life – to finally make up his mind and approach the girl in question. His imperial garment was not the most lightweight and movement-friendly of all apparels, and his shuffling along the clover caused significant amounts of noise as the lower edge of his cloak brushed against the vegetations, signifying his presence to the unaware dancer. She instantly stopped, swinging her head around in caution, and when that vigilance caught Lelouch's lumbering form advancing towards her, it translated at once into panic – childish panic of a _de facto_ girl at the sight of a stranger with unknown intention.

"Who… who are you?" she cried out, staring at Lelouch alarmingly, more panic reflecting in her eyes as the ex-Emperor closed on her.

The Black Demon Prince smirked, as his Geass-saturated irises flashed with both disappointment and amusement. Whatever psychological fortification the girl boasted was falling apart following his ever step towards her, as she nervously backed off. She was genuinely afraid as she did so – judging from the cripplingly frightened look in her terrified features, Lelouch could see that never before she had encountered strangers alone, at such a close proximity.

_"Even though this is just a dream, you are running away?"_ Lelouch shook his head as he approached, the context of said thought Renesmee would never know.

"Stop! Stop right there!" screamed Renesmee as she shuffled backwards with trembling paces.

Lelouch saw no reason to comply. At one end of the nobility scale, he found it compulsory to have the girl grow some spines. At the other end, regardless of what he might have declared, Renesmee's fright as she backed off was highly entertaining to look at. Having seen people rushing to death without turning back even once for the full duration of his life, how the girl struggled to keep the distance to the stranger, who could be as harmless as a bunny, was particularly interesting as a change of air to the ex-Emperor.

In time, when the girl realized the menacing stranger was not giving in, Renesmee's self-defense mechanism kicked in as a hesitated shriek, but with conviction as it escaped her lips.

"I… I am a vampire, you know. A Vampire, I said!" she shouted as she kept backing off. "If… if you come any closer I'll… I'll bite your head off!"

_"Can you?"_ Lelouch smiled as he thought. And it was not without merits – as powerful and devastating vampires were, they were helpless against spirits like him. After all, he was dead long before that day. It was impossible to kill him again by any means – the thought of standing at the very epicenter of a FLEIJA explosion just for kicks to get the feeling of those victims' last minute had been somewhat tempting to the deceased emperor.

But Renesmee was genuinely frightened, her bewildered eyes panicked and demoralized as Lelouch saw it. And in terms of simple diplomacy and psychology, further threatening her in that situation would not dovetail too well with his overall purpose. Promptly the ex-Emperor stood back, smiling at her, this time with a comforting and understanding look in his eyes.

The Britannian Imperial Family's charisma was hereditary, in life or death. With those tell-tale, dramatic and convincing eyes that could swing an entire enemy unit to his side – without the Geass, that is – soothing Renesmee's agitation didn't even count as a pushover.

"I didn't say I would harm you, did I?" Lelouch said to the girl as his voice softened and sweetened to fit a psychological nine-year-old, a tone he took with some degree of self-disgust though. "I am just passing by to say hi."

"So you are the new neighbor?" the girl calmed down a little as she asked back, with a degree of innocence worth laughing out loud on Lelouch's behalf.

"Not really," Lelouch was quick to regain his composure as he went on. "I'm just a passer-by who happens to come across this place. My name is Lelouch Lamperouge, by the way."

"Mr. Lamperouge, I'm sorry, I can't help you then," Renesmee opened her eyes wide with the curiosity of a stainless mind at him, and then shook her head. "Dad, Mom and Jake – especially Jake – have made it a point against speaking to strangers."

"Well, I've told you my name, so I am no longer a stranger, right?"

Stomaching his own words had never been more painfully guilty to Lelouch like this time. From when did the virtuous – to a sense, of course – 99th Holy Britannian Emperor begin to sound like a despicable pedophile trying to trick a naïve and innocent girl? No, not that Lelouch's code of honor was strict or anything, as he had had no qualms against killing off whole towns or ordering the execution of his ex-comrades and friends en-masse. But that kind of comment he was now forced to throw out was definitely out of his way.

At least it worked – the next thing Lelouch realized was that Renesmee's defenses had loosened somewhat, herself showing up in a visibly accepting air, in contrary to the previous animosity. As before, it was a notion both rewarding and disappointing – to think that this kind of moron would later on take over Britannia and watch over world peace in his and Suzaku's place was disturbing at best and downright repugnant at worst in the ex-Emperor's mind. As before, Lelouch had to painfully swallow the thought while appearing to be genuinely sincere and friendly. And as before, it hurt his self-esteem. A lot.

"You… you do have a point, Mr. Lamperouge," shyly responded the girl. "I guess you are no longer a stranger."

"So, what is your name, young lady?" Lelouch asked, the moral weight of his questions increasing as he spoke.

"I am Nessie," she replied. "My full name is rather hard to pronounce, so I go with this name in general."

"So… who is this Jake you are talking about?" Lelouch asked as he approached her, this time without further objection.

"He's my husband!" Renesmee answered with a degree of boldness and possibly ignorance so gigantic that it almost shook Lelouch off his feet.

"Your… husband?" as much as Lelouch tried to contain his disbelief; his composure was beginning to leak at this point. He managed to seal the container quickly thereafter, but his marriage-innocent brain was visibly melting as he heard her, resulting in a rather awkward moment of silence as his face slowly turned _red_. Red, as in a beetroot.

"Yeah!" Renesmee replied, oblivious of Lelouch's apparent embarrassment. "And tell you, I've been married for two years!"

"Err…" Lelouch twitched his eyebrow. "Do you really actually know what a marriage means?"

"It is awesome!" Renesmee said blissfully. "It mean you have someone you have known since birth to guard you, look after you, care for your every need and most of all, truly love you, who stays by your side day after day, month after month and year after year!"

Lelouch felt like facepalming as he heard her comment. Judging from her passionate voice and convicting attitude, she seemed to have fully believed in what she said. Her conviction was so strong that Lelouch nearly questioned his own knowledge about marriage – after all, the Emperor had never really loved anyone in the style of courtly love, let alone got married. He could have as well been forced to had he been first born, but alas, he was the 11th son.

"So… you're sure you're married?" Lelouch could barely breathe

"Why not? Jake is so nice to me!" Renesmee declared. "It's like, he doesn't have any life out of me, and he said he will take his own life if something happens to me! That is the power of true love!"

_"Oh… god. Is she truly ignorant, or is she feigning said ignorance?"_ Lelouch's eyebrows twitched even harder.

"Okay, cool," Lelouch yanked, with the top of his psychological capability, his runaway-prone astonishment, barely successful, as he suddenly changed his topic. "Say, would you like a present?"

"A present?" Renesmee rolled her eyes. "For what?"

Even as he spoke Lelouch didn't believe he had actually mentioned it. His iconic _Shinkirou_ was to be passed to his next, rightful heiress, as he has planned – a pity that Nunnally was capable of neither piloting nor ruling. Sooner or later, it would be Renesmee's to use, and that was why Lelouch had brought the craft with him as he passed through the dimensions to the rainy town of Forks.

Yet, judging from the current state of Renesmee's naïve and still childish mind, she had better not touch it yet. However, it looked like Renesmee's rambling on love and marriage had, inconveniently enough, confused the ex-Emperor to the extent that he gave out a Freudian Slip. One that he was sorry about as soon as it escaped his lips.

But withdrawing that comment was close to impossible – Lelouch was determined to build up trust with that girl, and he would rather swallow the mistake than giving her a bad impression. So Lelouch played along.

"Let's just say that Mr. Lamperouge wants to give you a little something for… for your touching speech on true love, yeah!" Lelouch found his throat reeking of immorality as well as doubt and some regret as he spoke. "Say, a _toy_, mayhaps, Nessie?"

"A toy?" Renesmee repeated. "Sorry, mister, but I have a lot of them at home already!"

"Well, like, a big one. A really big one," Lelouch coaxed. "As big as a house!"

"I've never seen such things," there was explainable doubt in Renesmee's eyes, but for all what Lelouch knew, she was extremely interested. "Are you sure such a thing exists?"

"Mister Lamperouge doesn't lie," Lelouch answered confidently.

His confidence was well-founded. A special package had made its way to the Cullen family's front yard even before they spoke, and it was even bigger than a house, when Lelouch was at it.

"I've delivered it to your house," Lelouch smiled in a friendly manner, as he suppressed all his doubts. "Whenever you return, _Shinkirou-kun_ is yours."

******


	3. Turn 2

**A/N:** Well, I've got Chapter 2 done after a week of mulling over the second scene. This scene should give you the premise of what is going to happen soon: the Britannian Empire is in disarray with Nunally being unable to fully take over the governing, leaving the Witenagemot (Gathering of the Wise, a form of Parliament) to do most of the administrative duties. At the same time, the Chinese Revolution has taken place, overthrowing the monarchy and the Eunuch Council, bringing to the world the new Republic of China under the rule of the Xin Kuomintang, led by Generallissimo Chiang Shih-Kai, who is as much of a Social Darwinist as Emperor Charles himself had been.

At the meantime, Lelouch, by means of some new Geass (which shall be explained later) managed to rescue Dr. Ignatio Mobius, as well as a team of GDI military scientist from the burning ruins of the Philadelphia Command Space Station immediately after the thing was hit by a Nod nuclear missile. As a result, Dr. Mobius is now lending the spiritual Lelouch the GDI's technological help, in the form of a "Mammoth Tank, Armor Superiority".

Please read and enjoy!

**P/S:**Well it's the second chapter, with more than 100 hits but... still no reviews. I don't know what is wrong, but if it is possible, could you please tell me what has gone wrong - via PM or review - so that I can mend it? Thanks beforehand!

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Turn 2  
Remnants of a Disaster

The natural terrain of Britannia left a lot of uninhabitable zones out of reach of the general public. There were an abundance of deserts, mountain ranges, epic summits, impassable jungles, as well as previously perfectly inhabitable lands turned into waste as a result of _Daedalus_ bombardment. Before the invasion of Sector 11, Emperor Charles had had in mind at least three plans to reclaim more land from nature, but apparently war, terrorism, an untamable son and eventually death had stopped him from carrying out those plans. Arguably, he couldn't carry out all those plans without sufficient energy in the first place, dooming those benevolent intentions into the domain of impractical awesomeness.

As a result, a huge, unpopulated highland in the southwest of the mainland was still standing there, as a proof of triumph of nature over humanity – in a sense. Arrogant were the mountains and the boulders, looming over the arid ground as if it was theirs and theirs alone, as if no man could cross it without falling prey to the hardship. Proud and stoic, as nature had always been.

That is, if Nature had forgotten that Lelouch Lamperouge was exactly the kind of unshakable hero who had no qualms against punching out Cthulhu in the first place, let alone nature. Precisely, the barren mountains where no one in that age could live comfortably was turning into the critical intermediary of his master plans. Only himself, the Earth, and those few he still employed knew what kind of designs and calculations he was having with those wastelands.

It was huge. It was undercover beneath the uncanny shell of Mother Earth. It was branded "Lelouch" from one end to another, conceptually speaking. An underground base/factory compound at its best.

How an entity restricted to spirit-level existence could monitor such an astonishing task was difficult already, but how he could do it when ninety-nine percent of the world's inhabitant would throw all sorts of blessed anti-demon charms at his barely-lingering self if they ever saw him again was a wonder in its own rights. And yet, Lelouch did it… again. Not that he had ever taken any major enjoyment in his royalty status, but the feeling of walking through the newly-constructed and plated hallway of his new hideout, with everyone he crossed path bowing respectfully in his presence, was definitely good. And he didn't cheat his way out of it – his new subordinates' irises were nothing out-of-the-norm, chromatically speaking.

"I greet you, Your Majesty," a serviceman dressed in technician uniform said as he spotted Lelouch in the distance, immediately bowing down low, simultaneously generating that warm and fuzzy feeling of pride in the spirit's heart.

"Afternoon, Lt. Grant," casually spoke Lelouch as he strolled by hurriedly. "Remember to report to Sector 5 for compatibility laboratory tests ASAP."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" affirmed the officer.

"Please excuse me – I'd love to stay and chat but I'm really busy as of now."

Lelouch was honest with that. As of present, his head was on the brink of exploding – that is, if it had been corporeal it would. In the past twenty-four hours, more complications had taken place than the sum of the past one year added, escalating the situation's seriousness beyond casualness. Though the world was not going to blow up any time soon, things were developing rapidly, almost escalating to the in-war levels.

The spirit's pace stepped up as he approached a certain chamber at the end of the corridor. A steel, automated door visualized before his sight, a newly painted "AUTHORIZED PERSONNELS ONLY" in block letters flashing haughtily at all passers' by. Lelouch smirked at the still wet sign – at this step, the only "authorized" personnel were himself and the person he was supposed to meet with behind the gateway.

Lelouch moved forth, before a control panel on the wall, opened his left eye at the maximum angle, and stared at the LCD conveniently positioned at his level. A mechanical voice buzzed from the panel's speaker, the distorted tone it spoke in was quite the comic relief for the deceased emperor on its own.

"ACCESS GRANTED. GOOD DAY, LELOUCH VI BRITANNIA."

Lelouch laughed silently as he heard the declaration. Perhaps in the whole of the compound, the digitalized door response is the only voice that addressed him by name, a good change of air, when he was at it. And then, as Lelouch looked on, the door creaked open slowly, like a giant behemoth taking its time to lumber out of the way, with a jet of steam – or rather, smoke. For good reasons, with the frequency that that door was operating, it'd take much longer before its motion became more flexible. And Lelouch was cool with that – whatever lay beyond those plates he would not want more than a handful to know.

The large doors closed far slower than he had wanted, about at the same pace as it opened. Involuntarily the spirit attempted to cover as much of the still open doorway with his back, as if to block out anyone's unconscious visions. Futility was duly addressed, though. His now-ethereal forms meant that his standing before the gateway could block as much unintended vision as an industrial fishing net could – virtually nothing. Fortunately, the hallway was relatively empty. His newly established base, as much as he would like to boast, was far from adequately manned to give birth to the poky type. But it was only when the steel slabs had came to a complete closure that Lelouch breathed out a gasp of relief, however unneeded it was.

It was an engineering laboratory/factory hybrid Lelouch was now standing in. Compared to the scale of his makeshift stronghold, it was virtually the largest chamber of all, at almost twenty feet high, each side no less than twenty yards in length. According to his calculations, up to five Knightmare Frames of the standard-issue model could be kept there, housed, repaired, serviced, and revved up. Or even dismantled to give rise to more advanced models. In short, the paradise of military engineer, in a modest sense.

For all what Lelouch knew he had done a fine job supplying the stash with sufficient working materials. Mechanical models were lining up one wall, while tools of all sorts, be they automatic or manual, mundane-sized or industrial-sized, were kept on the other. But that wasn't the key feature of the compound. In the middle of the room was something vaguely resembling a tank, which was strange, seeing how most nations in the world had generally discarded the traditional tanks in favor of the more combat-savvy Knightmare Frames in the war. What was stranger, that tank model was larger than most in history, spanning almost all across the length and width of the enormous room, looming over the tiny rest with well-deserved pride. And its structure, as just a quick glance revealed, was at least half a dozen times more solid and stable than the average, outdated contemporary tanks.

Talking about his purpose in the visit, the person he was seeking an audience with was standing there, at a table in the far left corner. A white-haired scientist, with a white blouse to go with, as well as age-denoting wrinkles all over his forehead as a sign of age and devotion to his trade. He looked completely absorbed in is work, not even paying attention to the door's apparently deafening advent. Lelouch raised his eyebrows a little as he glanced at him, after which a smile of approval emerged across his ethereal lips. That was exactly the kind of person he wished to work with – devoted and strongly attached to his work.

"Doctor Ignatio Mobius," Lelouch called out as he approached the table. "It's good to see you still working."

The said scientist jerked a little in a start, as he forced himself back, his eyes a little bewildered as he glanced at his questioner. Upon seeing the familiar figure before him, the old man breathed of relief as he addressed the newcomer.

"Lord Lamperouge, you're back," the man bowed a little, albeit awkwardly, as unnaturally as the word _lord_, reason of which Lelouch could clearly understand – the scientist he stood before had lived his whole life in a dimension where feudal titles had been eliminated for good.

"I've got to thank you for the duplication of the _Shinkirou_ Knightmare Frame," Lelouch nodded. "It works better than I thought, considering it was almost eradicated from the face of the Earth before…"

"That's nothing, sir," the scientist replied. "It is my pleasure to find out that there exists such an environment-friendly replacement for Tiberium in this world myself."

"Talking about Tiberium," Lelouch addressed, "I'd like to know how your research is going, doctor."

"The result as I have now is splendid, sir!" Dr. Mobius exclaimed joyfully. "As far as I know, the Sakuradite Core installed in the captured Knightmare Frames produces 85% as much power as a Tiberium-saturated Nod power generator core, with 145% service durability and 67% less volatility. As soon as the new Sakuradite Core can be placed into action, the Insurrection can mass-produce the heavily armored Mammoth Mk-III Tanks, fully customizable to tailor to our pilots' every needs!"

"Excellent," smiled Lelouch. "However, are you certain that the Mammoth Mk-III can withstand a full onslaught by the Guan Yunchang-class Knightmare Frames?"

"The Chinese Guan Yunchang is, statistically speaking, just a revamped version of the Lancelot Frame," Dr. Mobius said. "And the damage output stats of the original Lancelot, as far as I know, are roughly the same as those of a Nod Avatar Frame or a Scrin Tripod Attack Frame, neither of which could defeat a Mammoth fair and square. I have full confidence in the Mammoth Tank, as a long-time developer of GDI weaponries and technologies."

"The Chinese have the advantage in number, Dr. Mobius, lest you forget about it," Lelouch looked rather skeptical as he spoke. "We need something to balance that advantage out. Have you, Doctor?"

"That is where we are now, sir," Dr. Ignatio replied with pride as he whipped out a blueprint from his table.

The blueprint was especially detailed, filled to the brim with connotations and complex formulae, most of which Lelouch could not understand, to his vast intellect's shame. Not that he needed to, anyway, for the answer was on the way.

"The pride of the GDI military is the widely adopted rail guns," Dr. Mobius continued, as he glanced pridefully at Lelouch's blank expression. "Naturally, the Mammoth MK-III Tanks are also equipped with a double-barreled rail gun, but its heavy duty frame allows for the deployment of many more. With no need of the many layers of Tiberium shielding any longer like the original design, the frame can allow for even more of these boys, not to mention extra armor, which we'll talk about another day. Consequently, we can actually enhance the Mammoth Mk-III into a monster tank, literally, with anywhere from seven to fifteen rail gun turrets, laser-guided to suit the purpose. Meanwhile, the Lancelot Knightmare Frame, or the Guan Yunchang when I'm at it, can carry much less armament and armor than our Mammoth. The answer, sir, is a foregone conclusion."

"If that's so," Lelouch replied enthusiastically, although technical details weren't too much of his favorite, "when can the project start in full scale?"

"We need money, sir," Dr. Mobius answered, as he looked at his oversize brainchild with a visible gag. "This kid weighs two-hundred and sixty-four tons, without the rail guns, that is. That's just the raw mass alone. We also need the precise technology to manufacture GDI-exclusive spare parts. Not to mention ammunition and a lot of other things. As I said, sir, war costs money and tons of it."

"I can take care of the money myself," Lelouch blinked confidently. "I have… sources, you can trust me on that," his face then turned serious all of a sudden, as he stared at the scientist with due suspense. "Apart from those, when I was away, did anything happen?"

"As the radio suggests earlier this morning, sir, the situation is, unfortunately, falling apart rather quickly," Dr. Mobius answered, his face tensed as he spoke in response. "Generalissimo Chiang Shih-kai has had his first hostile speech on open broadcast today. He doesn't seem to be concealing his attempt to take advantage of Britannia's current situation and launch a full-scale invasion. Although, he does strongly suggest that if anything, he would take Japan first, _and then comes the lousy, depraved Holy-Crapped Britannian Empire_, to put things as he said."

"How's the response of the _Witenagemot_ then?" Lelouch looked quite agitated as he gritted his teeth.

"Far from positive," Dr. Mobius answered. "If they are the people to represent Queen Nunnally Vi Britannia's administration, then the reign is as good as doomed. They were at best withdrawing and at worst outright trembling before Chiang's threat."

"I know most of those people since birth," Lelouch shook his head in clear disapproval. "The epitome of an entire race of corrupted politicians – and unfortunate for Britannia enough for them to be in power at this important time."

"Sir, from my personal experience with red-tape bureaucracy," Dr. Mobius replied with a nod, "You can rest assured that they will be the last people to stage a resistance and the first to turn tail and run should the Chinese really blow the war trumpet."

"Then let's make this quick, Doctor. The _Witenagemot_ must fall if we are to resist Chiang's menace." Lelouch's annoyance escalated as he breathed out heavily. "Those people are not far from offering my sister to those scums on a platter to save their own skins, I am sure of that."

"I shall do my very best, sir," Dr. Mobius answered. "But by all means, my attempt alone will not solve anything. We need more labor, and we need them fast. Otherwise we are getting nowhere."

"Then, how much can you do alone for, perhaps, the next week?" Lelouch asked earnestly.

"I need at least ten more helping hands and adequate machinery if I am going to turn out even one Mammoth this week, sir," Mobius' tone was a combination of disappointment and frustration as he said. "Otherwise this hull may have to sit around for another three months, at least."

"I see," Lelouch breathed out hard, as if trying to swallow a large lump at his throat.

"On the other hand, sir, there's also some good news," Dr. Mobius said, attempting to cheer up the mood. "The messenger sent to the 34th Imperial Knightmare Unit has returned with an uplifting confirmation."

"She's back?" Lelouch's eyes brightened. "What did they say then?"

"The girl named Renesmee Cullen has been successfully enrolled into the unit's training sub-division," announced Dr. Mobius. "The only condition, though, is that she must remain in Imperial service for at least one month after graduation, by means of the Constitution."

"That's no problem at all," Lelouch remarked with a visible smile. "Major Jack Ingham has done his best in our service, after all. We can't ask for more when this enrolment itself is nonstandard."

"That being said, sir," Dr. Mobius backed up to his table. "I wonder if there is any way we can bolster production, for this doesn't…"

"Trust me, Doctor," Lelouch said determinedly. "If I can pull you to safety from the wrecking Philadelphia with your life intact, I can similarly pull out a good production staff at your disposal. I only ask that you complete as much as you can as quickly as possible…"

"My life is yours, Lord Lamperouge," Dr. Mobius bowed once more. "As are the lives of all the Philadelphia crews you have saved from that nuclear disaster. We'll jump into a Tiberium silo at your command if you want."

"I'd rather not, thanks," mildly replied Lelouch with a sly smile signature of the Demon Emperor. "There's a lot more I'd like to ask of you guys…"

******

Renesmee still hadn't recovered from the impact the oversize mechanical entity's appearance had on her. Certainly, an action figure would make a fine toy, but one thing, that was for boys, and the other, the _toy_ in her front yard was too large for its own good. And Jacob particularly didn't like the latter any least bit – his old-generation car was almost trashed when the thing threatened to topple over. Not to mention how no one was even vaguely able to picture how that humongous steel figure could make its way into Forks without alerting the neighborhood, let alone positioning itself precisely at the very center of the Black household.

"This thing is going to take a day to remove from here," Jacob remarked as he walked around the gigantic toy three times taller than himself.

"Are you sure you can do it alone, dear?" Renesmee asked, her crystal clear eyes emitting what seemed to be a combination of awe and mystery.

She wasn't a small girl any more, physically speaking, and in some way, mentally speaking – even when nightmare happened, it was unlikely that its effect could drag on for as long as that, protruding into the ever-beautiful real world. It was plainly weird at best and absurd at worst.

In any case, the absurdity had been done, and its effect now undeniable. Somehow she got a guilty feeling of responsibility – were it true that what had happened in the dream had truly affected her real life, she had made a fair chunk of mistake by nodding to _Mr. Lamperouge_'s request.

But what was done was done, and there was no point in regretting, or so it seemed. They really should move the large toy somewhere else, so that it wouldn't clog up their cozy front yard and threaten to crush their sweet home should it lose balance. The point was, Renesmee didn't expect to spend that day cleaning up the mess.

"Or should we just leave it here and go on with our plans?" Renesmee quietly asked her _husband_.

Jacob wiped his forehead as he glanced at his childish spouse. As annoyed as he was from the unwelcomed addition, he understood the importance of that day. Three years ago, on that very day, they were wed at the consent of everyone in the Cullen household. Although he had sworn not to _violate_ her until she had gotten chronologically older, and it would be quite some time before she would happily bear his child, that day had still gone down into his and her calendar as a day to remember.

To celebrate it, Jacob had promised her to take her on a field trip of sort – a memorable tour of the surrounding woodland. It was supposed to be one of the rare occasions that Renesmee got to get some air, so how eager she was to await that special trip was a foregone conclusion. And Jacob, being the platonic lover he was, would rather have his house crushed by a meteorite than trampling Renesmee's wish.

"Of course this will have no effect on our anniversary, honey," sweetly said Jacob, as if forgetting all about the _Shinkirou_ looming over their house. "If this freak falls on our garden, or even our house, we can always rebuild it. But an anniversary is a timely event, and time, honey, doesn't come back!"

"Hooray!" exclaimed the dhampir gleefully, an exclamation not unlike those of primary schoolers before an exciting event. Jacob smiled happily as he gazed at her innocent beauty – intellectually and physically speaking she had grown up, but the lack of real-life contact knowledge had slowed her mental maturity by quite a bit. And Jacob would rather this state continue for some more.

Jacob flicked his head towards his antiquated automobile, helplessly parked at the mercy of the mech. He opened the door with a powerful swing, as he leaped to the cabin, pinned his seat-belt in place, and signaled Renesmee to follow suit. The childish physically-adult wife of his was gleefully quick to follow. Jacob had enough time to have a quick glance at her eyes – it had returned to the crystal clarity of complete, childlike, blissful ignorance it used to be and should be.

_"Growing up can wait, Nessie,"_ Jacob thought as he started the engine. _"I'd like you to live as happily as you can, for as long as we, no, I, can protect you from the world beyond…"_

*******


	4. Turn 3

**A/N:** Sit tight, everyone. There's gonna be some serious action this time. As in, serious casualties.

**Expect the entire named cast of Twilight to not survive this chapter. I'm sorry, but that's the way this story proceeds. Once again, no offense to anyone.**

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**Turn 3  
The Crimson Flame**

"Your Majesty, Colonel Havoc reporting in for duty"

The low, thunderous and extremely conceited – in a sense – voice of the elderly warrior standing before Lelouch told him that Kallen's voice was nowhere near the top of the world in terms of loudness and brashness. But what astonished him even more was the identity owner of such a voice. Never before did he expect a sixty-something year-old man to be so full of himself, and yet again, he had every reason to have that self-trust.

Colonel Nick "Havoc" Parker was, if anything, the complete opposite of Lelouch himself in most aspects. Lelouch had to bend his neck backward to the limit just to look at him eye-to-eye – the veteran was, by far, at least eight inches taller than himself. His broad shoulder and muscular build, rigged with combat-earned scars and calluses, somehow resembled that of an iron boar that had known of only victory in his hunts. Maybe not even Suzaku and his near-legendary physical prowess could stop this behemoth from advancing should they accompanied. His eyes, glued on the figure of the petit ex-emperor with a certain glint of authority as a result of such sharp contrasts, just as if he was asking out loud _"Hey, is this kid going to be my commander?"_

But the ex-emperor wasn't even angry at that. After all, it was exactly the kind of look Lelouch would expect in someone up for the job.

"At ease, Colonel," Lelouch smiled at the ex-GDI commando. "I suppose you've heard Dr. Ignatio Mobius' share of the story, have you?"

"Already there," Colonel Havoc replied with a dull grin. "Looks like those… good-for-nothing heads of the GDI have been wiped out for good when the Philadelphia blew up."

"You are not too fond of your old employers, are you?" Lelouch slyly blinked.

"Now, now, my young king," Colonel Havoc said, his voice strangely sarcastic. "When your leader starts accepting bribes, expending your men needlessly, expanding costs that need cutting down and cutting down costs that need expanding, they've earnt their place in hell."

"That would count as a bad mark in your resume, you know, Colonel?" Lelouch remarked.

"Resume, my king?" Colonel Havoc chuckled. "Look, good sir, I am now a retiree – a Colonel rank is good enough to convince other that, 'Hey, I'm Havoc! The one who has blown up a friggin' division of Nod infantry, nuked another division and scared another into submission!'"

"You are quite full of yourself, aren't you?" Lelouch said calmly, albeit the exchange thus far was sufficient to learn that the heroic veteran before him was nowhere like the _strong-willed, weak-hearted_ Kallen he knew. "Don't you think… that's not a good way to appeal to a potential employer?"

"I've lived long enough, young king," Colonel Havoc said. "Long enough to see half of my friends blown up, filled with lead, or so contaminated with Tiberium you can't recognize their face when you attend their funerals. The other half are also more likely to be enjoying a one-way trip to the great beyond owing to old age. When you're as old as I am, you'd give squat about women, wealth, fame, or even your own life."

"If you are so… let's just say bored of living," Lelouch raised his eyebrows with some degree of astonishment, "why did you answer to my call then?"

"A soldier's oath is a holy one, especially one made by a member of the Dead-6.," the old Colonel said, his voice descending into a deep, far-reaching well of tone. "Dr. Ignatio Mobius has done a lot for me, and all what I have ever done for him is to let his only daughter die… helplessly, right before my eyes. It's a debt of honor, my king. Ain't gonna pass on to the great beyond without repaying it."

"And so you chose the shortest way – to repay the person who saved Dr. Mobius' life," Lelouch nodded in approval.

"That's you, my king," the Colonel smiled empathically. "I don't like elaborate stuffs, so should I just say simply, I'd follow your orders as far as I can stand up and aim a gun."

"Certainly you are," Lelouch remarked. "Taking down a whole squad of Britannian border patrol with just a submachine pistol is no mean feat."

"That was left-handed," conceitedly remarked the old Colonel.

Apparently the old veteran was going to say more of the GDI Commando-trademarked one-liners, but the next thing that happened cut his speech short rather abruptly. An alarm was sounded, its booming sound filling Lelouch's room in mere seconds, followed instantly by the standard glowing red beams of top-priority warning, startling both figures in the chamber. That level of warning, as Lelouch had programmed, would only set off in extremely rare cases, such as imminent dangers or other complications.

Before Lelouch could even properly react to the newest development, the ex-GDI colonel he recruited had got everything on his behalf done – submachine gun cocked, muscles clenched, eyes sharpened. Any enemy unfortunate enough to think about rushing that army of one would feel the meaning of the word "pain" and "sorry" in a bat of an eye. And an unwary ally almost fell for that – had Colonel Havoc lost control of his trigger finger, the frantic messenger rushing into the chamber immediately after that would have been filled with lead in the first place.

"Your Majesty!" the personnel screamed as he ran into the room, only to be frozen solid by the imposing barrel pointing straight at his face.

"Next time, knock before you enter," remarked the GDI colonel as he lowered his gun upon recognition. That comment was supposed to calm the soldier down a little, though both Lelouch and Colonel Havoc realized that it didn't help much.

"Your… Your Majesty, things… things are going badly!" stuttered the terrified personnel.

"Lt. Francis, get a hold of yourself!" Lelouch said with a visible degree of concern.

"Did the Britannian Army come or what?" Colonel Havoc said reassuringly. "Tell them to come in - I'm needing some good target-practice, by the way…"

"No, not at all, Your Majesty, Colonel," the soldier went on, his voice calming down a little, though nowhere near normality, as his word escaped his lips at Gatling-gun speed. "The town of Forks in the alternative dimension is… under heavy fire!"

"What?" Lelouch's reaction was violent at best and near insane at most, as he suddenly sprang up, his eyes going wild for a brief moment, before the instinct of a leader pulled him together again, though his blatantly wild look was nowhere near the needed level of calm and collectedness he was supposed to have.

"We have detected vast amounts of destruction at the town of Forks, most of which concentrated around the Cullen household!" Lt. Francis gasped for air, likely to reload his machinegun pace. "It… it seems that whatever is out there must be after Lady Renesmee's head!"

"I'll make sure that does NOT happen in any sense of the word! Ready the prototype Lancelot MK-II!" Lelouch roared, as he marched out of the room. "Colonel Nick 'Havoc' Parker, your first mission is this one – we must save Renesmee Cullen at all cost! Follow me!"

"Machinegun cocked and ready," chuckled the said colonel, as he ran after the ex-Britannian Emperor. Though, who was running after whom was another matter entirely.

******

Renesmee stood at the gateway of her now-ruined household, where her vampire family lived… or more likely, used to live. The only thing she could now see was fire, everywhere. As if setting the house on fire wasn't enough, whoever had caused it had made sure that every single thing within a twenty-yard radius from the main building was scorched with the most intense flame they could pull out. Whoever had planned that must have known that her kind was weak to nothing but fire. Nothing, but fire.

At first natural instinct kept her from going in – the flame was ferocious enough to turn Beautiful Nessie into Char-grilled Nessie in mere seconds. But then, when the initial fear was bypassed, Renesmee found herself gliding through the smoldering debris and into the pile of burning junks, in the hope that everyone was alright.

Her hope was dashed as she ran up the central path, when she almost tripped over… on Uncle Emmett's lifeless, severed head. As if that wasn't enough of an horror, Renesmee's next realization was, if anything, dementing to the core. Littering across the place were the severed heads of her uncles, aunts, up until her grandfather and grandmother, scattered at the base of each flaming piles, assumably of their own limbs and bodies. Not only were the culprits extremely malicious in nature, they also knew enough of vampirekind to conclude in such a subhumanly macabre method of execution.

Finally Renesmee's horror peaked when she recognized her own mother, too, among the dead, or more likely, her last possession. Edward Cullen's wife had apparently been given the best care of them all, apparently having been turned into all ashes before her other family members, right up to her skull. If anything, the only thing reminiscent of her was her wedding ring, ironically much more flame-resistant than its unfortunate owner. The golden ring reflected the crimson flame, as if a tragic finale of a supposedly heaven-made love story.

As if not yet believing in the tragic happening, Renesmee took a full turn, staring at the background and foreground, each thoroughly and permanently scarred by the merciless flame. That was then that any trace of horror converted itself into anguish. For good reasons – just half an hour ago Renesmee was probably the happiest girl to have ever walked the earth, with family, spouse, and every bit as much luxury as a princess. Now, everything was gone for good, be it her dear uncles and aunt, her ever-cheerful granny, or even her loving parents, as well as any memory associated thereof.

The last thing Renesmee could remember was giving out a deafening, desperate cry of erupted mental pain. In that one moment, the whole universe seemed to have imploded upon her, crushing whatever she had and treasured, ripping her nearest and dearest from her side for no apparent reason. And then it all went black. Were it because of the intense heat she was never used to facing, or the mental trauma having peaked out of her capacity, she didn't know. All what she knew was everything went black. Physically, she was still standing – her feet could still feel the ground, but mentally, she was completely unconscious.

"Renesmee Cullen," a sullen, threatening voice sounded right behind her, as condemning as it was menacing. "You and your petty family… a threat to our existence. All of us."

"Let's finish this once and for all…" another voice sprang up in resonance with the dancing flame.

Renesmee could only afford some time to shake her head and turn back. The realization was nowhere near comforting, if not the complete opposite.

It was the Volturi Family. The leading ruling vampire clan, who ruled the rest of their kind like an international iron hand of vampire justice, famous for their black-blood-knight-styled methodology. The most nationalistic as well as the most zealous of them all as well, when she remembered it. Their presence would more often than not mean nothing good for the one being visited. As she could vaguely remember, their arrival at this very homestead some time in the past had resulted in a court-like scenario, at which her family had done their very best to convince them that she was going to be harmless, a memory she would like to leave dead and buried. And in this one case, their ominous presence at that very moment of tragedy could suggest only one thing…

"You…" Renesmee could barely speak. "You did this, didn't you?"

"Yes, this is our doing," the brooding, tall leader of the hunting squad nodded with a sinister smile. "There's no point in denying the truth to someone who is going to perish anyway."

"Aro of the Volturi … why?" Renesmee spoke, as she tried to pull herself together.

"We have now received sufficient proof of what kind of damage you can do to us all, should you get to grow up," snidely spoke the head of the Volturi, his voice as critical as it was condemning. "It would be more preferable if… we dispose of you while we still can. Along with those you can depend on."

"Officially now you are our worst enemy," continued the vampire named Marcus. "And you know what happens to the Volturi's worst enemies, in cases like this."

"But enough talk," Aro shook his head decisively, as he turned to his third brother. "Caius, you've always wanted to prove yourself, haven't you? It is now your turn to put an end to this threat once and for all…"

The said vampire nodded, with an extremely conceited smile, mixed with a fine amount of gratefulness, for good reasons. It was well known that Caius had no special ability of his own. He did – the ability to steal other vampires' special abilities if he fuses their venom-blood with his. He hungrily advanced towards the seemingly helpless prey almost three hundred times younger than himself, a glorious Crowning Moment of Awesomeness painted in blood red block letters in his mind. That moment drew closer and closer as Caius closed on Renesmee, licking his lips hungrily. He didn't notice Renesmee's eyes slowly changing color for no known reason, which he didn't consider to be of any importance anyway. Of what use is a prey's desperate glares when she was about to be devoured?

Caius had to learn from that mistake in the hard and fatal way, when Edward Cullen's white Volvo, the only vehicle in the neighborhood fortunate enough to have escaped the flame strike unscathed, suddenly sprang to life for some unknown reason, rand him over, and, to the astonishment of the Volturi clan, suddenly burst aflame with Caius Volturi still stuck in its tread. The explosion was nothing compared to the huge fireball that used to be the Cullen household, but the heat it emitted was sufficient to turn the unaware member of the Volturi clan into a pile of flaming charcoal within mere seconds. When the fire finally settled down, all what was left of the third-in-command of the Volturi clan was only a mass of ashes, buried beneath the smoldering junk of Edward's materialistic pride. It was thus far the quickest slaughtering of a full-fledged vampire in the whole of history.

The Volturi hunting party never understood what had happened. It was almost a minute after the fire settled down that they realized that one of them had met with an untimely death – something they had never seen before. The effect was an universal locked jaw, as their bewildered eyes alternated between their fallen brother and the tool that killed him. What was more astonishing, the cabin was empty – there was apparently no one at the wheels, let alone taking part in such a magnificently life-taking maneuver, leaving only one possible explanation…

"You… bastard!" Aro swore as he stared at the only possible offender, just on time to catch for himself a glimpse of what he had never known in his three-thousand-odd years of existence.

Renesmee's left eye was flaring unnaturally purple.

A closer look revealed more – from the depth of her iris, lay a wing-shaped sigil, as if burning a mark in her pupils, a mark probably symbolic of something he didn't even know. For a split second, it appeared that even the mighty leader of the Volturi was backing off. To add on to the humiliation, his attempt to read her thought, for some reasons, miserably failed, for the first time in his lifelong hunting career. All what he knew or could make out from such a situation, was that Renesmee had taken some unknown powerups, capable of turning the tides of the confrontation with no difficulty at all.

And there Renesmee stood, as if having been transformed into a different person entirely, her look straightly fixed on her foes, her hair flowing in an invisible curtain of wind flushing through her shape, her mouth twisted, as if crying out loud for vengeance. That uncomfortable confrontation lasted for quite some time at the Volturi hunting party's expense, at which point Renesmee blinked, only to stretch her eyebrow as far as it could, revealing the scary, frightening purple fireball again, as ferocious as ever.

"Renesmee Bi Britannia Commands! _Shinkirou Knightmare Frame,_ Combat Mode Set!"

Maybe it was just Aro, but it was as if Renesmee's transformation had been completed with a voice change to top with it all. His centuries of combat experience told him that such a transformation would mean nothing good. At all.

Which was true, especially when a huge mechanical unit, roughly three times taller than each and every of them, dropped on their head from nowhere, crushing beneath its feet the slowest vampire that didn't get away on time. Even when Aro and Marcus and most of their cadre could sidestep on time, the commotion that the object threw up when it crash-landed on the ground was by no means run-of-the-mill, signifying something worse to come.

They were being faced by not a tank, not an artillery unit, not even a half-track, all of which they could waste in no time, but rather a humanoid being of steel, similar to a mythical golem, but built with a technology level nowhere had they seen before. And judging from the way it claimed fatality just with a landing maneuver, it was not going to be friendly to their lot at all.

"Phase Transition Cannon, FIRE!"

Renesmee's cry didn't bear any meaning to the vampires, until another of their party, the unaware Anthenodora, was ripped into halves by the resulting ground-scorching beam cannon, protruding from the steel humanoid's chest at Renesmee's command. The arm-mounted flamethrower on the steel creature's appendage then proceeded to trash the vampire's dying corpse, as well as any hope of revivification. What no vampire killer had ever been able to do – killing off two of the six leading Volturi leaders – had been accomplished within the space of four minutes by a girl who wasn't even fully vampire-blooded.

"… No… No way…" were the only words that escaped the unfortunate vampire coven leader's lips as he stared at his comrade's smoldering remains.

And the rampaging beast didn't look like it would stop anywhere soon. Another beam cannon and another purifying flame shot claimed the lives of another three of the Volturi coven, scorching them to the bones, igniting a small-sized firestorm where they once stood, the extremely inflammable venom they had for blood to be blamed for their demise. There was basically no way to defend themselves – the steel creature's beam cannon sliced through their body as easily as hot knife through butter – no question asked.

And what was worse, when the vampires tried to evade the lasers, another one got squished to the point of unrecognizability by the massive golem's giant feet, and another got a good uppercut punch on the face, throwing him into the air, at which point the mechanical creature was free to fry him whichever way he thought fit. The first time in their lives, the vampires were defenseless. The first time, they were being hunted rather than the hunter. If that battle was to continue, everyone of them up to Aro would be terminated, annihilated, and eradicated from the very existence.

"Shinkirou… Kill… Them… All…"

Fortunately for Aro and Marcus, Renesmee's mental strength had crossed her limit. No sooner than those four words were muttered, the young dhampir felt weak on her knees, and collapsed on the ground as a result, in a very untimely manner. Whatever she had been activating must have caused a huge strain on her already outstretched mentality, to her dismal. As she fainted, her personal weapon of mass destruction similarly lost control of itself, and collapsed on the ground with a loud thud. As if heeding its mistress' final call, the creature's fall crushed another panicked vampire beneath it in a cloud of dust.

As the ball of thick dust died down, it took the rest of the Volturi hunting party quite some time to literally recover from the shock and focus back on the work at hands. Some of them were still trembling – it would take more than a century or so to forget what a humiliating beatdown they had just received. But there was ob to complete at hand for them…

"Alright, everyone," Aro took a deep breath as he stared at Renesmee's completely motionless form. "Let's get this witch waxed…"

It came to Aro immediately after that being said that the one to be waxed was none other than another of his coven, when a harpoon-shaped rocket from nowhere shredded the unfriendly air, slicing through the already scattered lines of the Volturi, pinned the unfortunate victim on the chest, and spectacularly blowing up together with its victim, leaving but a terrified scream of pain in the background.

To the Volturi clan's horror, the next thing they saw was a full block of housing being trampled by what seemed to be the same as the collapsed golem, only larger, winged, and armed with a rifle of epic proportion to match it with. Apparently it was the one responsible for the newest casualty on their side of the battlefield.

"Fixing the Lancelot Albion with a rail-gun-propelled Slash Harken rocket… I'll have a lot to thank the Global Defense Initiative R&D department after today…" a rather prideful, yet regal voice from the creature's very origin told the remnants of the Volturi hunting party that the game was far from over for them. "Huh? Wait a second, is that all of them?"

Lelouch Lamperouge – the ex-emperor of Britannia was seated in the cockpit as he delivered those words. His astonishment was well-founded – the clan of vampires attacking the Cullen household had been given quite a beatdown when he arrived.

"Who are you?" Aro Volturi shouted, or rather, roared at the newcomer with all due rage. "What are you doing here?"

"Vampires, huh?" Lelouch snidely remarked. "I haven't had a fair fight for quite some time – let's have some fun, alright?"

"Impudent human!" Aro growled at the top of his voice. "I'll skin you alive!"

******

"Stupid vampires," Colonel Havoc said as he emptied another clip of GD-2 Standard Issue Assault Rifle ammo on an apparently dying vampire lying on the roadside just for the sake of it. Had he been in control of Lelouch's Lancelot Mk-II, things would have been even more fun for him.

Long story short, the Volturi hunting pack had been almost totally annihilated. Save for Aro, Marcus and their spouses, everyone else had been either ripped into halves by the MVS blade, crushed to nothingness by the sheer pressure of energy bolts, or otherwise just simply ran over by the Knightmare Frame's large feet, completed with a salvo of flamethrower shots. The result was the entire street was filled with vampire corpses, each and every either char-grilled to perfection, or otherwise filled with so much lead they would be unable to move even if they could stand up again.

And to compensate for that, the Lancelot only suffered some minor injuries on its neck as Aro tried to launch an unsuccessful offensive. For that, Lelouch had another reason to thank Dr. Mobius. The additional plating worked well in that case – had it been for a standard Knightmare ceramic plate, Lelouch would have had his pet Knightmare Frame decapitated.

But there was one thing he knew – Renesmee had been well saved. The Shinkirou she rode would be as good as an interdimensional craft in that role. By the time she woke up, she would be in the Insurrection's safekeeping, for that matter.

"Your Majesty, we've got a survivor!"

Lelouch's response to that was especially keen. The ex-emperor quickly dashed towards the direction of the voice, instinctively understanding the situation.

There, at his destination, lay a half-charred, half-mutilated figure, lying where the foyer of the Cullen household used to be. Some how he had survived the worst of the onslaught, for sheer luck. Lelouch's ghastly form hung over his position, recognizing him with a raised eyebrow.

"Edward Cullen," Lelouch addressed.

"Lelouch Vi Britannia," Edward replied. "So… you have arrived…"

"…"

Lelouch didn't say anything. Once more he had failed someone, as if his past hadn't been littered with cases like those. Right now, once again, there lay Edward Cullen, dying on the ground. With the kind of injuries he was suffering from, not even being a vampire would help. Not even the extremely advanced medical system he had under his command would help, when all what was left of Edward was his head and half of his chest. How he was still able to speak must have been a matter of sheer will.

"Renesmee… she is safe, isn't she?" Edward spoke weakly.

"She is," Lelouch nodded. "No one will be able to harm her now, I assure you."

"That's… all what I need, Lelouch Vi Britannia…" Edward replied. "You… shall keep your… promise, will you?"

"I will," Lelouch answered. "I will upkeep my share of the deal… as well as you have done yours."

Edward nodded for the last time as he closed his eyes, the sparkles that made up his primary facial feature dulling forever. Vampires would rarely die, but when one did, it was bound to be ominous.

As he gazed over Edward's dead form, Lelouch couldn't help but wonder for himself.

_"This war… it is going to be far bloodier than anyone would want…"_ Lelouch thought. _"Maybe… maybe there will be more terrifying things to come in the near future…"_

******


	5. Turn 4

Chapter 4 is on. Looks like I still owe Geassfans a certain explanation, so here I'm supplying it. Read and enjoy!

**

* * *

Turn 4  
From Where Perfection Ends**

_"You have been a fool to have believed that the world will finally be at peace with your death."_

_Maybe it was just him, but Lelouch did feel a strong jolt of pain at his chest – precisely where Suzaku had stabbed him – when he heard those words. The fact that his body was now wholly ethereal did not stop him from clutching where his old wound was, as if it was being ripped apart by the very context of the allegation. His bewildered look at the being perching before him was self-explanatory. It wasn't amusing at all, when he was at it._

_"You... you must be joking!" Lelouch screamed, as if he was undergoing the terror of his lifetime. "My... my plans... they were flawless!"_

_The serious, convicting stare from the winged being facing Lelouch told him that he wasn't amused in all seriousness, let alone joking. Not to mention his kind – the type of celestial beings guarding the gates of Higher Heaven, armed with divine swords, wings, and coronas – had been known for aeons to be unable to lie. Or so it had been said, an angel's lie is punishable by banishment to the deepest depth of Hell._

_"Essentially, what you have been hoping was to unite the world to fight one common enemy, by means of acting as that common enemy yourself, so that when you die, people will have already been united and will coexist in peace for all eternity," the angel said. "Alas, you have been far too ambitious with that plan, though I myself find it meritorious to a certain extent."_

_"What do you mean by _far too ambitious_, anyway?" Lelouch was basically shouting at the top of his voice._

_"You, a mortal with nothing more than some petty magic and an intelligence far, far less than any of _us_ to back you up, want to achieve with that meager asset something that not even the higher beings could hope to achieve," the angel said harshly. "Humanity is a race of chaos. However advanced your civilization has grown, there is always a tendency to spark conflicts, wars, struggles, and anything along those lines, like a dangerously dried stack of hay. There is no way, I repeat, no way to effectively halt that haystack of the threat from sparking up into a violent firestorm."_

_"There will be no one left to fight," Lelouch replied sternly, holding his ground. "I've done everything I could so that they all wanted to kill me, and just me. Now that I'm dead, too..."_

_"Wrong," the angel shook his head. "Do you honestly think that is enough?"_

_"Why is that wrong?"_

_"What a disappointment, Lelouch Vi Britannia," the angel said, his tone escalating into a visible degree of ridicule. "Are you trying to sound so, or are you really that stupid?"_

_"I..." Lelouch's words were clumped in his throat, partly because of the insult, but mostly because of the astounding shock hitting him with the full weight of a three-ton mallet._

_"Okay, let me just give you an example, Lelouch Vi Britannia," the angel explained, after a gesture most reliably translated as facepalming. "Your death has left a huge power void in not just the Holy Britannian Empire, but the whole world as well. Your sister is not a born ruler, the Suzaku that has killed you and take over your position as her guardian is not trusted by a good section of the army and the people, and those remaining officials of your empire is not sufficient to even run a country a third that size. What do you think that may lead to?"_

_"I... I have never thought of that..." Lelouch admitted, bending his neck._

_"Of course this power gap will be filled in time, but not in the way you intended. At best, your country will take in a good deal of new administrators whose loyalty is but a variable. At worst, the entire Britannian government will be wiped out, giving rise to a whole new administrative body. Regardless of the choice, Britannia will be terribly weakened by the time all the changes have taken root," the angel's speech continued. "In the meantime, I can guarantee that pretty much the same thing will happen to the rest of the world, leaving most of it without a capable, strong leader to upkeep the peace, which means widespread chaos on an unprecedented scale, and guess what," a dark, ominous smile emerged across the creature of light's visage, "if that kind of chaos doesn't allow another breed of selfish and/or corrupted politicians to get into the scene, steal absolute power, and start another world war for their own unscrupulous gains, I don't know what will."_

_"Are you... Are you sure about this?" Lelouch's terror was peaking rapidly as he heard the angel's verdict._

_"Long story short, you failed political science forever, Lelouch Vi Britannia, and thanks to that, the world now is in even worse unrest than when you were alive," the angel sneered. "Fortunately, you are not going to suffer the consequences yourself, though your sister won't be that lucky. She wouldn't... survive that throne of hers too long in that kind of scenario, I may put. And if she dies, that wouldn't be a comfortable death, judging from just how many people coveted the crown and the throne she now claims as her own."_

_Lelouch felt the entirety of his ethereal form going numb at those words, his limbs weak, his head dizzy. Part of him – of an unrealizable proportion – felt like leaping up and pummel the winged guardian of Heaven's gate. But then, the lack of strength in all his muscles, together with the easily perceivable desperation of the scenario, led to an action he had never even pictured himself doing. Lelouch dropped on his knees, before the highly-perching angel, about to burst into tears at any second now._

_"O great angel, is there... is there possibly any way that I can... can save my sister?" Lelouch was basically begging, an act he had despised with all due scorn for the entirety of his lifetime. "I... I can burn in Hell for all eternity, as long as... as long as I can be given another chance... Nunnally means the world to me, and... and..."_

_"Stand up, Lelouch Vi Britannia," the angel smiled tolerantly. "This is precisely the reason why I've been sent to greet you here today. The Archangel Gabriel, among others, has petitioned for your return to life to right your own mistake."_

_The suddenness of the proposal sounded like another hammer falling squarely on Lelouch's forehead. The shock was such that it took the downtrodden ex-emperor almost a full minute to realize the good news, at which point he sprang up, his eyes flaring up in a involuntary gleam of epic proportion._

_"That... that means I can return to life?" Lelouch hastily spoke._

_"Yes, though only conditionally," the angel smiled as he spoke. "Your body has been destroyed in the funeral pyre in a stroke of bad luck, which means that you must tread the living world as the ghost you are now. And also, you can only hang around the mortal plane of existence for no more than three years or until you can find a suitable method to bring temporary stabilization to the world, whichever comes first. If you are unable to find a solution after exactly one thousand and ninety-six days from today, we will still have to take you away."_

...

Lelouch sprang up from his bed, sweating profusely. Had it not been for his whole body being ethereal and gaseous-like, that amount of sweat could have literally soaked his mattress five times over. A spirit's nightmare, however improbable, was a reality to Lelouch, and when it happened, it wasn't too pleasant.

Not to mention the context of the dream, which was as good as an alarm to Lelouch. It was all too well the fifth time in that week that he had relived that dreadful conversation again – a playback reminiscence of his meeting with the angel just outside the gates of Heaven, a playback he would rather not hear, but one whose important was such that forgetting it would spell the doom to all of his efforts. Even now Lelouch could feel his immaterial heart thumping at top speed as he remembered the angel's last words.

_"Three years,"_ Lelouch thought, as he wiped his forehead. _"It's already one year, two months and twenty-five days since that day... and this is what meager achievement I've got. I have to speed up – time is running out..."_

******

The impact of the dream was rather drastic on Lelouch's behalf. The result was the rather irregular pace at which he sped along the corridor of his secret base compound, as he raced towards a certain, limted-access section of his domains.

The Knightmare-hangar-like secret chamber's appearance had gotten some substantial changes that day. The half-complete Mammoth Mk-III was still staying where it should, and so was the long line of equipment and tools along each of the north-south walls. But the table where Dr. Ignatio Mobius sat had been moved to another corner, giving way to what appeared to be a stasis, life-supporting chamber, whose kind Lelouch had seen to the point of boredom in science fiction films. It was, however, quite empty, its occupant having been vacated for quite some time now, leaving just the green-blue somatic liquid enclosed within the glass husk of the device.

A second look revealed that the room was more crowded then than it used to be – a team of half a dozen female, blouse-clad lab assistants were hanging around the place, notebook, pens and sticky-note in hand, surrounding the white-haired Ignatio Mobius at his newly-moved table. The head scientist wasn't so leisurely after all, eyes glued to the computer screen, luikely finalizing the result of some complex scientific experiments. Whatever the GDI-resident scientist and his female aides were doing, it must have been closely tied in with the stasis chamber, and whoever it had contained.

"Dr. Mobius," Lelouch said hastily as he approached the head scientist. "I hope you have finalized whatever test we were carrying on Renesmee Cullen, have you?"

The instance of Lelouch's voice was highly attention-drawing. The crowd of female scientists dispersed instantaneously as Lelouch closed on the table, having realized that their sponsor wasn't in a particularly good mood. As charismatic Lelouch was, when he ran out of patience or was having a bad day, his tendency to go all-out ballistic would exponentially increase, or so they heard.

"I have, my lord," Dr. Mobius immediately stepped out from his seat.

"I believe we have good news, Dr. Mobius," Lelouch nodded.

"We have carried out extensive tests on the dhampir throughout the night," Dr. Mobius answered. "And I can say I am quite confident on the accurateness of what result we have here."

The doctor then returned to his table, adjusting the tiny projector in a particular niche on the surface, and pulled out a certain control unit from the drawer. A few more clicks resulted in a full-scale projector screen dropping down from the chamber's ceiling, catching the beam of critical information-bearing light from the projector with all due precision. The result of those professional-styled actions was an overhead slide screen materializing for everyone's convenience.

"Lord Lamperouge, this is what we've got," the doctor said, pointing to the overhead screen, bearing an what seemed to be an overall computerized model of Renesmee Cullen's physical body, with all needed connotations attached and duly noted. "The result is astonishing in a very good way – the girl's physical prowess measures up to 335.34% of Lieutenant Albert Higgins, 312.87% of Lieutenant Snievel Conrad, and perhaps 123.85% of Suzaku Kururugi's test statistics, based on the official data we have got. Alpha-bullet-time test results also dictates that she can effectively dodge a GD-15 pistol shot at a distance of 123 meters or more. To top it all with, the standard Rivel-Statd test showed us that her hand-eye coordination skills are as closed to 100% as the computer can get. "

"That is physically speaking," Lelouch nodded in approval. "Not surprising though – she is supposed to be a vampire and all that. But what about her intellectual statistics?"

"She has got a whopping 167 points in IQ, sir," Dr. Mobius answered with a certain degree of interest, as he sipped to a slide showing a graph with a ridiculously large slope. "and still counting, as so it seems from this kind of learning curve she has got. At this rate, hers can easily top 180 in another twenty years."

Lelouch smiled contentedly – after all, he had gotten a chance to meet someone whose IQ was that close to the legendary 178 of his before passing to the other plane of existence.

"But there is a snag, sir, which I count as bad news myself," Dr. Mobius continued, his deep interest turning immediately into concern, tone-wise. "The girl's secondary set of Omega-Sigma Acquired Experience is almost non-existent. This is tantamount to saying that she has the wisdom of a five-year-old girl to spite that prodigal intelligence of hers."

"The wisdom... of a _five-year-old_?" Lelouch sounded as if he had received another dose of massive-hammer-dropping. "Oh, wait... I could have seen it coming from the meaningless babbling abut _true love_ she muttered the last time."

"I blame whatever education she might have received for that... blasphemous waste of intelligence," Dr. Mobius remarked. "Someone of an intelligence her caliber should have had the knowledge and maturity to come up with a high-school-level thesis with relative ease by now. And yet... tertiary tests reveals that her Life Consciousness Quotient is vastly under-average, at around 40, meaning that she wouldn't be able to tell a truck from a Mammoth Tank function-wise."

"Bleh," Lelouch facepalmed. "I should have known what to expect from that... slightly disturbing family of hers. Marriage at seven year of age apparently doesn't help, as well."

The gasps and mutters from the rest of the female researcher crew was rather disturbing at the sound of those words, or so Lelouch perceived. His fiery, disciplinary glance at the crowd dispersed the noises, though the crowd's stealthy glances back at the ex-emperor as he turned away still qualified for some nasty bits of shocks they wouldn't give up for some time now.

"But you shouldn't worry too much, sir," Dr. Mobius reassured. "With the intelligence she has, as well as the near-vertical learning curve she holds, all what we need to do is to expose her to the harsh reality of war, and her acquired wisdom will soar. For your information, it was apparent that her LCQ had skyrocketed by around ten points or so, just after she witnessed her parents' brutal murder."

"I see. Let's hope for the best then," Lelouch said.

"And... there is something else worth looking into, Lord Lamperouge," Dr. Mobius went on, the concerning subtext of his voice coming once more into existence. "We've recovered this... video footage from the _Shinkirou_ that contains some critical information. You might want to view it, sir."

"A footage?" Lelouch asked back. "Could you please view it, please?"

******

_"Renesmee... Bi Britannia?"_ Lelouch coun't help but rack his brain to the point where it hurt as he made his way to Renesmee's chamber. _"How... how did she know about it? And... wasn't it the Geass sigil that I've seen?"_

The footage had given Lelouch a good deal of disturbing brain-racking. Not only did Renesmee's reaction to her family being slaughtered nastily astonished the Volturi, it was also quite the mystery to Lelouch. Not only did she, somehow, maybe just subconsciously, address herself as Renesmee _Bi Britannia_, she also apparently had under her possession a frighteningly powerful Geass, if Lelouch was to trust C.C.'s words a long time ago.

_"Geass powers can evolve. All too often, the evolution of civilization itself, among other reasons, will give rise to a whole breed of new codes, some of which straying so far from the basic – yours and mine and Mao's – that you can barely recognize their substance at all. Just so that you take note in case something goes badly wrong."_

The innocence with which C.C. said these words, along with the plushy Cheese-kun she was toying with as she spoke was simply innocent enough to ignore. As far as Lelouch's perception was concerned, Renesmee's Geass seemed to be something along the lines of Absolute Domination over machines. There was no other way he could possibly explain how Edward's white Volvo could crush and blow up a full-fledged vampire while no one was at the wheel at all. And there was Shinkirou, that had apparently saved Renesmee's life by holding out against the Volturi for long enough for Lelouch to arrive, which would have made perfect sense, if only it had been fixed with an auto-pilot function, which it wasn't.

But, if anything, it didn't explain the Renesmee _Bi Britannia_ part. Of course he was planning to adopt her that name sooner or later, claiming her to be a member of the Britannian Imperial Family to win her a stake in the throne. Of course he would like to take her in as an adoptive sister for the sake of the grand Post-Zero Requiem he was planning. Of course it would work well... had she not known about it firsthand.

_"Did I make a fatal mistake by telling that Edward that I intended to name his daughter Renesmee Bi Britannia?"_ Lelouch thought hard. _"No... it couldn't have been! When I met her in the dream... she was referring to herself as Renesmee Cullen... or Black, not Bi Britannia, that I can remember quite well. And being the overt simpleton she is now... she doesn't seem to be able to lie. She couldn't have probably have known about it , but then... it makes no sense at all!"_

There was but one way to find out – in the form of a short audience...

*****


	6. Turn 5

We know one thing. Lelouch is capable of great evils. Such as the one described below. Or... maybe not THAT evil, but it is still heartless, to a sense. Read & enjoy!

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Turn 5  
"This. Is. Britannia!"

For all what Renesmee Cullen knew, she was undergoing the worst moment of her life. The darkness that she was going through was unlike anything she had seen before – thoroughly bleak, empty, as if an unknown void had swallowed everything and anything she held dear, leaving her with herself, and herself alone. Her limbs were frozen in place, like that of a one being buried up to the neck, losing all their senses. Her parents weren't there, nor were her aunts and uncles and grandparents, and not even her dear husband was there to dispel that seemingly eternal shadow.

What was worse, her own screams and cries for help were similarly drowned in the sea of blackness, devouring her desperate wails in the most sadistic way possible, as if it was sentient of her inability to free herself or otherwise asking others to. Even if her nearest and dearest had been there, they wouldn't hear her. Her terrified screams were left to echo in her head, as a further token of helplessness, amplifying her already deeply rooted fear exponentially.

And then came the limit at which Renesmee could not stand it any further. A screeching cry burst out of the base of her throat, as if she had never been able to scream before, in what seemed to be a final attempt to break out of the hell she was confined in. A victimized prisoner plagued by mental agony, Renesmee's cry was perhaps the trapped girl's final attempt to make a breakthrough, before succumbing to the unspeakable horror.

And yet miraculously, for some reasons, it worked. Like a fading column of black smoke blown away swiftly by the white wind, the darkness surrounding her came to its abrupt conclusion, returning her consciousness, sight, and the freedom to move her body around. Freedom came to her so quickly and unexpectedly that she was fidgeting and twitching her limbs long before she could actually question how she had survived the worst ordeal of her life.

As soon as conscience returned to her, Renesmee breathed of relief, upon realized that she was lying on a flat surface, with but a certain warm, wet, and stuffy sensation all over her back and face to pester her. Apart from the sweat on her forehead, which she promptly wiped away rather comfortably with her newly liberated hand, the amount of liquid on her backside alone seemed to be even more than the summation of her perspiration since birth. It was a common sight for her to sweat profusely whenever she had a nightmare, convincing her that all what she was going through was just a nasty abomination of the mind, no more, no less.

Reactively Renesmee lifted herself off the surface she was lying on, as she opened her mouth, about to call out to Jacob, the usual way for her to start a new day. She was stopped before she could say anything though, for a simple reason. She was nowhere near the cute apartment she called her own, and nowhere near the dear man she called her husband. Before her now spread the unknown setting of a strangely decorated room, lacking both the warmth and the loveliness of her own household.

If anything, the room she was now in was more like a storeroom of an industrial structure rather than a place where humans can stay. The lighting available in the room was none too bright as well, with only a tiny ceiling lamp enough to barely illuminate her face and the surrounding constructs. The walls weren't built with brick and covered in flowery wallpaper, but rather put up with sheet metal welded together to form an enclosure. The sharp, dreadfully cold glare from the surface was chilling to Renesmee, as if her rapidly evaporating sweat wasn't already doing the work. A small, but thick and imposing metal door, attached with a sophisticated control system was barring her only way out.

As a final markup to her confusion and growing tension, Renesmee's next realization was far from helpful – the girl's next instinctive reaching for the back of her neck resulted in the discovery of a thick electrical wire plugged right there, one end ominously sticking out of her spine and the other apparently connected to a certain computer on the nearest table. That kind of astonishment turned into fear extremely quickly, as she tried to pull the cord out to no avail, only succeeding to hurt herself as she attempted. After the third attempt, followed by a jolt of pain similar to being pierced through at the very place with a sharp sticking pin, Renesmee decided to give up the futile attempt, but only with a nasty feeling to go with. The notion of being an animal being vivisected was nothing too comfortable, once Renesmee got the idea what it meant.

"Jacob? Dad? Mom? Help me! Help!" Renesmee found herself screaming out loud again, this time with much more success than she had in the nightmare, but with no less desperation, as she tugged at the cord with growing terror.

"You have woken up, Renesmee Cullen, or so it seems."

The door clicked and bleeped as the voice entered Renesmee's system, drawing her attention at once to the source of the sound. Curiosity overrode her current fear, as her eyes fixed upon the automatic contraption, as it slowly and dramatically opened, revealing a particular figure behind it.

"Jacob?" Renesmee asked out loud.

"I'm not Jacob Black," the figure answered, as he walked into the limited effect radius of the lighting system.

Obviously he wasn't lying, as the only thing he had in common with Renesmee's werewolf husband was the dark tone of hair color that was too black to be even close to his brownish shade. His extravagant style of clothing was certainly striking to the look, the white robe covering his body filled with colorful studs and jewelry, the kind of garment that her aunt Alice would do anything to get one into her wardrobe. Maybe it was just Renesmee, but the newcomer's eyes were shining with a degree of determination pushed to the extreme, wide open with notions of both malevolence and benevolence simultaneously, a complexity not known in her little world before. For good or bad, she couldn't tell, her limited life experience putting her to shame. However, at that moment, all her thoughts were about something else.

"You aren't Jacob? Where is he?" demanded Renesmee.

"As far as we know, Jacob Black's body was nowhere to be found in the aftermath of the Cullen family massacre," the white-clad figure replied. "Chances are he is still alive, but we aren't exactly sure of what has happened to him."

A certain word in the figure's reply struck Renesmee with the weight of a megaton hammer.

"What... what did you just say?" Renesmee spoke with feverish haste. "The... The Cullen family massacre?"

"At 10.34 am yesterday, the Cullen household was raided by a hostile vampire army," the figure spoke extremely openly. "Outnumbered and caught by surprise, the entire family was brutally murdered, their house burnt down, and their remains shredded and incinerated. You are the only survivor that I know of."

Renesmee was stunned at the revelation, only being able to shake her head in denial as a response. But denial was futile when part of her – and that part grew stronger and stronger as her mental realization stabilized – remembered exactly what had happened. Even though she could not remember nothing else, the image of her family members burnt to ash, with only their severed heads as the grisly reminder of what they used to be like was too vivid a memory to be wiped off her memory.

And then came the mental image of the Volturi vampires, torching everything and sparing none, coming for her as the stood helplessly before the smoldering pile that used to be her beloved. How and why she survived exactly, Renesmee didn't know of, the thought doing nothing except hurting her more the more she thought. The next thing Renesmee found herself doing was to clutch her head with both palms, squeezing tightly, as if wanting to strangle out her own brain.

"It... it... it can't be... it's just... just a nightmare..." Renesmee muttered uncontrollably, violently swinging her head as she uttered louder and louder. "It cannot be! You must be lying!"

"Lelouch Lamperouge does lie," the figure shook his head. "But you can trust that this time he is saying the truth."

"Lelouch... Lamperouge?" repeated the dhampir, as she stared at his face at the realization of the familiar name. "You are... Mr. Lamperouge?"

The imagery of her first meeting with the man called Lelouch Lamperouge was anything but vivid. She was blissfully unaware of what his features were, what he was wearing, or even what his voice was like, but there was one thing she still remembered – the duality of that man she was talking to, the duality that made up every bit of him, the dangling shade of both good and evil, truthfulness and chaos, friendliness and malignancy, melded into the shape and voice of one being. Nowhere before had she seen that duality, not even in her father, who was quite notorious for his "I'm so evil" speech, or so her mother told her. And now again that duality incarnation is facing her.

"Yes, I am Lelouch," Lelouch replied. "So you finally recognized me."

"Mr. Lamperouge, that... that isn't real, is it?" Renesmee's words clung on to her new acquaintance, as if clutching to the slightest bit of hope. "My... my parents somehow... they are still alive, aren't they?"

"They aren't," Lelouch answered bluntly, trashing Renesmee's last hope and gunned it down with his every word. "I'm sorry for your loss, but that is exactly what has happened. Being top-notch vampires as they are, they didn't survive the battle."

"It... It can't be!" scowled Renesmee.

"It is true, Renesmee Cullen," Lelouch shook his head, genuinely sincere in his words. "I've seen their bodies with my own eyes. Edward, Bella, Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, Alice, even Esme and Carlisle... they're all gone."

There was a moment of silence as Renesmee rolled her eyes at Lelouch, with a look best translated as a fine mix of shock, distraught, angst and violent, vehement rage. She finally snapped.

"You're lying!" Renesmee's reaction was understandably violent, as she sprang at Lelouch in the same way a sniveling child would pummel an adult to get what she want.

Renesmee used to display that behavior all too often at home – being the only daughter in a wealthy family, as well as being the dear wife of a man who worshiped her like a goddess meant that she all too often got things done her way. She had to learn that things no longer worked like that, in the hard way, when the cord connecting her neck to the computer yanked her back before she could even touch Lelouch, inflicting a massive amount of pain to her supper spinal cord in the meantime. The pain was such that Renesmee's eyes blacked out for a brief moment, before being pain-forced to retreat back to the original position.

For a moment Renesmee lost all control of her senses, her agonizing pain seizing control of her totally. And when she finally recovered and resumed her stare at Lelouch, an added degree of humiliation was included in her defeated look. Mental and physical pain finally manifested in a steady stream of tears flowing down her visage, as she began to cry out loud, partly from the notion of having just realized her first irreversible loss, partly because of the helplessness she was currently trapped in, with no hope of getting out by her own.

"Remove my chain!" Renesmee wailed. "I... I want to see my family for the last time!"

"At the moment I am afraid I am unable to disconnect that cord," Lelouch slowly said. "That cord feeds your current mental and physical statistics straight into our main computer system for further analysis. It is connected to your spinal cord with an electromagnetic device – there is no way you, or even me, can remove it without powering off this entire compound."

"You... you are an evil man!" Renesmee exclaimed. "Release me now, before my husband come and..."

"My apology, Renesmee, but it isn't even known whether Jacob Black survived the atrocity," Lelouch replied sternly. "Even if he does, there is little chance he can even find out where we are now, let alone come to save you. The damsel-in-distress model doesn't work in that way any more."

"But... why, Mr. Lamperouge?" Renesmee muttered. "Why did you... do this?"

"I have no other choice," Lelouch shook his head. "There is too many... mysteries around you for our own good. But don't worry, the test won't last more than a week. You'll be fine after that."

"What do you want me for?" Renesmee asked, her emotions in a full-scale surge as she spoke.

"There are many things you needn't know as of now," Lelouch answered. "Just keep in mind that we share a mutual interest. We need you for an important mission. And you, similarly, need us."

"I don't need you!" Renesmee exclaimed madly.

"Your parents have died horrible deaths at the hands of powerful vampires – those more powerful than themselves," Lelouch said. "Don't you want to do them the rightful justice? Don't you want to avenge their death? Don't you want to make the culprits suffer the way they had your parents suffer?" the Britannian ex-emperor stared right into her eyes, not at al touching his Geass, yet with the same degree of compelling persuasion. "Don't you?"

Lelouch's charisma was almost hypnotic. Before Renesmee knew it, she was already nodding in agreement, as if forgetting wholly about the abuse she was undergoing.

"I... I do," Renesmee verbalized that gesture. "But... but how?"

"You have vast potentials, Renesmee," Lelouch answered. "Enough to achieve greater things than your parents have even dreamt of. Enough to help shape the world into a better place for everyone else. But you must first learn to use that potential well."

"My potential? What do you mean?" Renesmee asked back with all due curiosity.

"You have a certain... power, Renesmee. A power barely understood by today's science, yet powerful enough to render whole armies useless," Lelouch answered. "We are trying to learn more about your power, and devise a way for you to channel it against your enemies. Once you have known how to control it, you will be untouchable."

"Tell me what you know," Renesmee demanded. "I want to be able to destroy the Volturi as soon as possible!"

"_Geass_," answered Lelouch promptly and sternly. "Keep that word in mind, Renesmee. When the day come, you'll know what I mean."

******

"Lock the door," Lelouch ordered the military officer standing on duty at the gateway as he exited the room. "Make sure that she doesn't attempt anything stupid, like breaking free or trying to escape."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" ceremoniously replied the officer.

Lelouch nodded in agreement as he marched away. There were many things that needed his work apart from a sniveling spoiled girl, after all. His time was short, and knowing that the Chinese Xin Kuomintang would take every chance they could to seize Britannia for themselves, Lelouch knew that they could be stopped by nothing short of a full division of GDI Mammoth Mk-II Tanks.

_"And there came the problem of labor,"_ Lelouch sighed. _"Better not let Dr. Mobius know that even I am unsure of where we can start conscripting skilled technicians yet, or..."_

Lelouch's thoughts were interrupted as he entered the next section of corridor, where his ethereal form was almost pierced through by a certain, peering pair of discontent eyes. The ex-emperor looked up to realize that before him, the GDI veteran Colonel Havoc had been waiting for him, with folded arms, shaking his head in due discontent as he stared at his supposedly superior.

"Your Majesty," sarcastically remarked the veteran. "I have some questions I would humbly like ask you, because they have been troubling me greatly."

"What's the matter, Colonel?" Lelouch asked back, feeling rather puzzled.

"I was wondering how much you honor a promise," Colonel Havoc questioned. "We Commando, for your information, detest nothing more than a commander without honor."

"I am losing you, Colonel," Lelouch glared back with some degree of annoyance. "What on Earth are you trying to tell me?"

"You have promised the late Edward Cullen to protect his daughter, haven't you?" Colonel Havoc asked.

"Yes, and what is wrong with that?" Lelouch scoffed.

"And, Your Majesty," Colonel Havoc said, "may I asked you from when did blatant human experiment and incarceration serve as protection for a young girl? You are already breaking your promise to the dead by what you are doing to her!"

"It is a must, Colonel," Lelouch tried to keep himself calm as he explained. "She is part of, no, she _IS_ the most important part of our plans. We cannot succeed without fully understand her powers and use it to our advantage!"

"Even by resorting to such things as vivisection and solitary confinement?" Colonel Havoc questioned. "That, may I say, is not even how the GDI treat prisoners! Only the most dehumanized of Nod Confessors would use that methodology on... children!"

"Then I welcome you to this side of the world," Lelouch could no longer contain his annoyance, as he let out a roaring exclamation. "This. Is. Britannia, Colonel Nicholas Parker. Where all sides of the conflict extensively use apparently immoral methods to serve their needs, no exception. We can either do it, or be damned."

Pausing for a little while as he breathed down his rage, Lelouch resumed with a calmer, yet still extremely vexed resolution.

"And my sister does not allow me to be damned, you know that?" Lelouch shook his head violently. "If something bad happens to her, I'll never forgive myself, or even the world, when I am at it!"

Before the GDI veteran even had time to reply, Lelouch had marched off, ignoring him thoroughly, leaving Colonel Havoc to stand ground like an old fool.

_"By the grace of God, what kind of a leader have we gotten into?"_ Colonel Havoc sighed. _"I wonder if you understand what we are getting into, Dr. Mobius..."_

******


	7. Turn 6

Okay, before this chapter I've got one or two notes. First, this chapter has references to real-life political figures (Chinese Kuomintang) used in a fictional sense. The fact that in this case, Xin Kuomintang appears in my story as antagonistic and imperialitic does not mean that I think the same of Taiwan's ruling party. My political stance is neutral in all scenario, and I would like to clarify that this chapter does not seek to offend Chinese and/or Taiwanese. Sorry if you misunderstood, and in case you feel it is unacceptable, be free to say so. In that case I will rename the Chinese ruling party and its leader.

That being said, please read and enjoy!

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Turn 6  
Renesmee of the Invasion Resistance

Apparently Lelouch had no qualms against exposing the delicate Renesmee to the worst kind of mental treatment he could probably muster. Inadequate lighting, four pale-grey walls and a constantly bleeping monitor, coupled with the solitary of the confinement, were bad enough in their own rights. The feeling of being treated like a guinea pig constantly reminded by the loose cord connected to one's spine, threatening to rip the entire spinal cord out of the body should she make a move too violent, added even more to the mental torment. In all seriousness, all of those usually were more than sufficient to guarantee that even the daily delicacies of meals could do squat to cheer the young girl up.

Lelouch didn't see the results directly, but the implications were clear, from a vantage point in the compound's Mammoth Tank hangar doubling as a laboratory serving the very purpose of monitoring Renesmee's progress. What wasn't good for Lelouch, it seemed that Colonel Havoc wasn't the only one who disapproved of his schemes.

"Lord Lamperouge," Dr. Mobius said, "this is not good. Although her Life Consciousness Quotient is steadily rising, her mental stability is quickly deteriorating! If we don't do something soon…"

"Wait for some time first," Lelouch shook his head in a rather cruel way. "This is the least I can do for her – my previous plans included anything from a Dream Simulator to outright Geassing her into horrible nightmares."

"That is anti-scientific!" exclaimed the scientist. "Her mind is too delicate for anything along those lines! She will be driven crazy if this goes on!"

"She won't. As far as I know world history has seen no mentally crippled vampires, and this wouldn't be an exception." Lelouch decisively said. "In any case, I intend to keep her incarcerated until we receive further notice from the 34th Knightmare unit. They have agreed to take in a female pilot-to-be mentally and physically capable of handling the Bors Assault Class prototype, not a whiny little girl who knows nothing more than cooking and cleaning and shacking up with her vastly older husband!"

"This can count as child abuse, Lord Lamperouge," with great disgust Dr. Mobius said. "I don't know if Britannia has petitioned the Convention on the Rights of a Child or not, but this is clearly a blatant violation of the highest possible order!"

"I have told Colonel Havoc, Dr. Mobius, and I will repeat this to you," Lelouch spoke coldly. "This is not the world you know where children's rights and human rights are respected that highly. Things don't work that way here. We are in a war which must be won at all cost, and that, Doctor, requires the most extraordinary of attempts, which this isn't even near."

"Your sister is a girl too, Lord Lamperouge, and not that much older than Renesmee Cullen," Dr. Mobius snapped. "Forgetting this, forgive me, will make you no more than a hypocrite, not all that much better than those you are trying to fight against."

The effect of Dr. Mobius' words were tantamount to a stake right through Lelouch's heart, instantly turning his vastly visage to a dreadful white shade, as if it hadn't been pale enough in his current appearance. Hastily the ghost turned away, as if to avoid being seen in that not-too-prideful appearance, his hands clutching his forehead in a posture half resembling a facepalm and half as if having been struck with a jolt of sharp pain right through his cerebral chambers. Perhaps Dr. Ignatio Mobius was the only one alive, apart from Suzaku Kururugi, who knew of his one and only mental weakness now.

"You… what have you just said?" Lelouch turned to the scientist in an attempt to resume the conversation, his hands still spread over his face. "You…"

"I said it once, but I won't mind repeating it again, Lord Lamperouge," Dr. Mobius calmly said. "Every time you do something harmful to a child, if you don't think about yourself, think about your sister. As a human you, me, or anyone else, have no right to hope for the best for their relative while treating others like dirt. Karma doesn't work that way even here."

Silence drew upon the entire room for a brief moment, as Lelouch bent his neck, as if painfully drawing upon a conclusion.

"What do you want with me now, Doctor?" Lelouch finally said, in a rhetorical tone mingled with a visible degree of distraught. "War is on the verge of breaking out, and when it does, Nunnally can die at any moment, unless we do something radical! We have to make a lion out of this lamb, before…"

"As far as I can tell from the monitoring, Lord Lamperouge, you still have a very important asset in Renesmee Cullen," Dr. Mobius shook his head. "She… respects you, to a sense."

"Respect? Who, me?" Lelouch rolled his eyes at the scientist. "Tell me you are lying or speaking just for the sake of it, Doctor. Lelouch has for long abandoned the notion of anyone respecting him."

"I swear upon my 34 years of honest scientific ethic that I am speaking all what I know," the doctor raised his hand as if swearing a sacred oath. "Somehow, it seems that her subconscious mind still grasped the instance of a lovely, charismatic white-clad man talking to her in a clover meadow and that of a knight-in-shining-Knightmare-Frame coming to her rescue."

"Are you saying the truth?" Lelouch asked back rather hastily, not bothering to hide his astonishment.

"Albeit this resembles the Stockholm Syndrome to the point that it is slightly disturbing," nodded Dr. Mobius, "I can say that we will fare far better if you treat her well to maintain that respect than to abuse her into insanity."

"Trust and respect don't make good fighters, which is what we need, doctor," Lelouch retorted.

"But distrust and disrespect do make good betrayers, Lord Lamperouge," Dr. Mobius said calmly. "And if my aging memory doesn't betray me, you've once said you yourself have been saved once by someone who genuinely trusted, respected, or even… loved you."

Once again Lelouch was stun-struck. Even though he did used Rolo Lamperouge like a tool, it was undeniable that his life was saved owing to him, and even today, the notion of what that bright man had done for him was listed among his most prized memories. The fact that the ex-emperor had himself dug his loyal fake brother's own grave was, in its own rights, really telling something.

"Rolo… no, Doctor, he is a different story," Lelouch shook his head in a final resistance.

"Double standard doesn't logically work, Lord Lamperouge," Dr. Mobius calmly stated. "One side, you have this man who had done you many wrongs, who seriously jeopardized your life more than one, and you are readily able to forgive him once he dies for you. The other side, you have a young girl who has done nothing bad to you, who will be an enormous asset to you in the near future, and who is, in a sense, already a follower of your cause."

"Fine, fine," Lelouch sighed. "What do you want me to do then? Chances are, with this kind of hare-brained wisdom, she will be expelled the moment she enter the 34th Knightmare Unit, or worse, get herself spectacularly blown up."

"She did get better, Lord Lamperouge," the scientist lifted his eyebrow. "In the time of just three days, her LCQ has risen by a whopping 24.5 points. At the present level, I swear that she can survive the academy, although she may not be able to catch up with her teammates for the duration of a couple of weeks. You can't expect much more than that."

"Alright then," Lelouch gave out a final sigh of defeat. "You won, Doctor."

"It's just about time," Dr. Mobius nodded. "If you'd allow me, I'd like to retract her control module immediately."

The scientist then promptly walked towards the large mainframe at the corner of the room, key in a couple of command prompts, resulting in a particular blip on the screen. Lelouch glared at him with mixed feeling, knowing that by doing so, the doctor had released Renesmee of her rather painful neck restraint. Half of Lelouch felt like ordering him to stop, while the other half, converted and persuaded, told him to stand where he was. The result of that conflicting struggle was the third sigh in a row on his behalf, followed by a quick headshake as the signal confirmed the release.

"It is done, Lord Lamperouge," Dr. Mobius said as the sound settle down. "I suggest you immediately pay her a visit, and comfort her to the best of your ability – she will be convinced, I hope."

"I really do hope I haven't made a huge mistake by that persuasion of yours, Dr. Mobius," Lelouch looked as if half of his head was filled with disbelief. "But… really you've left me no choice."

"That is what should be done, Lord Lamperouge," Dr. Mobius said with a smile. "She's probably waiting for a familiar face to cheer…"

However, hardly had the benevolent scientist finish his sentence than the main loudspeaker started to boom at top volume, almost throwing him off balance.

"Your Majesty, we've got contact!" the sound of the command-room operator dulled out every other noise in the vicinity.

"What's going on here?" Lelouch exclaimed. "What is happening?"

"It is a global broadcast by the Xin Kuomintang! It's… it's a war declaration!" the operator said, his voice trembling in a combination of both fright and nervousness. "I'll put the broadcast through to the hangar main screen, Your Majesty!"

"Damn… it's already here?" Lelouch cursed, as he turned to the main hangar screen slowly buzzing to life, of which the now-all-too-familiar visage of a Chinese warlord occupied the majority.

******

Lelouch walked down the central hallway with an increasing rage, even more so when he thought of what a broken and condescending speech he's just had the chance to hear. The fact that he was going down there to, as prescribed by Dr. Mobius, _cheer up the girl_ didn't help him maintain the coolness he should have had at the moment.

_"We, the New People's Party, the hope of China's 5000 years of history, today declares the final and much awaited conclusion of the rotting feudal rule of our beloved motherland with the execution of the traitorous Empress Tianzi. With her death, China shall be united under a single republic, and start its glorious crusade to reclaim our rightful territories! Japan, Korea, Indochina, Tibet, Inner Mongolia, even the distant lands of Okhotsk that used to be ours, ripped from our hands by imperialists, must be returned to us once more!_

I, Generalissimo Chiang Shih-Kai, taking the hope and dreams of a nation into my hand, thusly declare war on the Holy Britannian Empire, and their miserable Japanese ally, to reclaim our territories and our lost pride!

Our soldiers are numerous, solid, and each as mighty as a mountain lion with the nationalism of five thousand years to back them up! We shall not fail! Let each and every person bearing the blood of China rise up and join our fight to claim back China's lost territories! Let the infidels that used to strip our people bare of their worth feel the wrath of the descendent of Huang Di and Yan Di!

Long live the People of China! Long live the New Republic of China!"

Even then, Lelouch couldn't believe that the Xin Kuomintang had finally broken the limit by murdering Empress Tianzhi. She was even younger than Nunnally, last time he checked her age, and that didn't stop the Chinese warlord from making a complete scapegoat out of her. If only Li Xingke was alive, things might have differed a little… or maybe not, judging from his physical state the last time they met, and the fact that popular Chinese support was wholly on the Xin Kuomintang's side, or so it appeared superficially. A war between the rallied, most zealous portion of the Chinese population and the prideful Japanese will lead to millions of deaths, as if the last war hadn't been enough.

But again, Lelouch's greatest worry was neither Japan nor China. If war truly pushed forth to Britannia, what chances would his sister have for survival? Knowing that her throne was a little better than an outright house arrest placed upon her by the Witenagemot, Lelouch would, as he had declared far too often recently, not be at all surprised if one day he woke up to the radio broadcast of his sister being summarily executed, or worse, sold to the Chinese for public execution. It was too pessimistic a view to linger in his head, but the probability was drawing closer to one hundred percent the more he waited.

If only…

A huge blast interrupted Lelouch's train of thoughts, going as far as almost knocking him squarely on the ground – his physical klutziness appeared to be dragging along with him even in the afterlife. At first, the suddenness of the impact caught Lelouch thoroughly by surprise, his mind not at all aware of what was happening until…

"Your Majesty! We… we are in big trouble! The Chinese are here! There are lots of them! With… Knightmares!"

The sullied, mangled exclamation over the overhead loudspeaker was more than enough to turn Lelouch white all over. And before he had time to ask back for confirmation, the distinctive sound of a barrage of long range artillery over the hillside did the work anyway. Not only did it told him of a very realistic threat, it also confirmed a very unpleasant threat – Chiang Shih-Kai apparently hadn't lied when he said that the New Republic of China had fully upgraded the weak Gang Lou's puny cannons into rocket-propelled Katyusa-resembling handheld artillery pods in line with the new Guan Yunchang Knightmare Frame. Ripoffs of Lancelots they were, in Chinese-proportion numbers, they can crush just about any Britannian army.

"Do they know of our existence?" Lelouch said, trying to keep calm.

"Apparently their metal detector has spotted our presence!" shrieked the operator. "We now have… a division-sized army at our throat! We're screwed!"

"A what?" Lelouch rolled his eyes, his voice ascending in intensity. "A division? How could they have been here so quickly?"

Lelouch almost regretted having said that. He had always been wondering why did the Chinese bother so much with aerial experiments in the past year, knowing that in practice a contemporary Knightmare Frame can well double as a mobile AA unit, making most development in crafting air force a failure from the start. Now he understood.

"Airborne… invasion?" Lelouch said hypnotically.

The thundering sound of aircraft engines right over their head were, even with all the noise insulation of a couple of dozens of foot worth of metal and earth, as dreadful as that of a full-fledged locust swarm on the loose. The distinctive Knightmare engine revving up on the other hillside could only strengthen that hypothesis. Lelouch was in trouble, and so were the rest of his loyalists.

"Damn it, they are mistaking us for a Britannian detachment and are sending out their better soldiers!" the operator seemed to have been fully freaked out by then. "Oh god… no, no, no! They… they are going to kill us all!"

"Calm down!" Lelouch shouted, although the shaking ground, the full-scale bleeping of the red-alert light, as well as the deafening blasts of rockets barely missing his little command bunker was contributing its part to Lelouch's nervousness as well. "Calm down, I said! We'll find a way through!"

As much as Lelouch tried to keep him cool, the next barrage, culminating in one direct hit just short of blacking out the entire compound, discarded him of any remaining coolness. The silence that ensued over the loudspeaker following the loud rumble was nothing too calming to hear of.

"Damage report, anyone? Damage report!" Lelouch shouted at the top of his voice. "Do you hear me? Anyone over there? Hello?"

"I am here, my king," the sullen, yet extremely firm and uncontested voice of the veteran GDI colonel took over the phone. "The operator had apparently fainted due to direct trauma from a… blunt… object."

Having seen what kind of body build Colonel Havoc had, Lelouch would ill like to find out what was it that had actually happened to the operator, although from the Colonel's intonation, it wasn't anything good. In any way, the presence of an experienced soldier in the scenario lifted a heavy rock off Lelouch's heart.

"Colonel Havoc, what's the situation up there?" Lelouch hastily asked.

"In general everything is alright," calmly replied the veteran. "Part of the base is offline due to damaged cable, another part completely annihilated by the last hit, but most of the important infrastructure is okay and online."

"That's good," Lelouch breathed off a slight relief. "Is there any chance we can launch a counterattack?"

"The Knightmare launch bay is still more or less undamaged," Colonel Havoc replied. "We can still mount a counterstrike if you want to, my king, though I'd advice against it. They outnumber us ten thousand to one, or so it appears on the radar."

"The. Base. Must. Survive," Lelouch gritted his teeth. "Colonel Havoc, do you know how to operate the launch catapult from the command room?"

"I can operate it from here, my king," Colonel Havoc said with a certain degree of anxiousness. "But still, such a faceoff is highly discouraged by all military codes of conducts…"

"Screw the conducts!" Lelouch almost screamed in desperation. "This is an actual battle! Ready the Lancelot! Wait… the Shinkirou will do, too!"

"I will, but… In the name of the Holy Trinity, what on dear Earth is this?" Colonel Havoc was about to give up his advice corner when something completely unexpected popped up. "The Lancelot is gone!"

The revelation added another hammer blow to Lelouch's confidence, as Lelouch staggered at the very notion.

"What?" Lelouch screamed. "Gone? How can it be gone?"

"It must have been launched before I came here!" Colonel Havoc's voice appeared to be losing its coolness as well. "Now how could this be… HOLY CRAP!"

"What is it now?" Lelouch looked as if he could go berserk any moment now.

The next thing Lelouch realized was more or less explanatory – there, at the end of the corridor, the room where Renesmee Cullen was supposed to be kept had had its door wide open. Dr. Mobius must have removed the lock system the moment he retracted her monitoring cord. The result was more or less a foregone conclusion: As Lelouch stared into the chamber, an empty space with a computer conveniently switched off was all what he could recognize.

"Renesmee… is gone as well?" Lelouch mumbled, his consciousness on the verge of being strangled out. "What is going on?"

The ex-emperor felt like gouging his eyes out. Renesmee was the core of his master plan, the plan to not only save his sister but also to save the world from his own past error. And now she was just gone, evaporating from her incarceration right beneath Lelouch's eyes. In the chaos of the current attack, it was almost hopeless to even hear her voice, let alone capture her again. For a moment, it seemed to Lelouch that all had been lost

Lelouch's despair didn't last for too long, however, as the next message struck him with the same mighty hammer of astonishment.

"My king, the Lancelot… it is in full combat action!" Colonel Havoc's voice boomed, showing clearly how even him was totally taken off-guard by the newest development. "And… That girl is in the pilot seat!"

"What did you say again, Colonel?" Lelouch sprang to consciousness as he received the news. "What is in the Lancelot's pilot seat again?"

"Renesmee Cullen has apparently taken control of the Lancelot prototype," repeated the colonel, his own ecstasy far from fading himself. "And… she is kicking some serious Chinese ass! That's another Guan Yunchang down! And another one! And another one! And that's a full bunch down! God, they're going down by the dozens! She's going batcrap berserk on these fools! By the name of everything holy, is she a girl or a serial killer? My king, you have to see this!"

The series of explosion just within the periphery confirmed the fact all too well. Even from where he stood, Lelouch could still faintly hear the unison screams of terror on behalf of the Chinese invaders.

"I'm going up there right now!" Lelouch exclaimed, "Stay where you are and keep me informed, Colonel!"

******


	8. Turn 7

Here goes Chapter 7. Note that I am making Renesmee to be badass, at least to a sense. Although she'll have lots to learn later on...

**

* * *

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**Turn 7  
"Borusu Ichishiki"**

Lelouch's arrival at the command room was marked by an exclamation of complete awe on behalf of the colonel in charge, and judging from Colonel Havoc's tone, he could blurrily understand how the battle was going on. And battle progress, as the sign showed, was anything but bad.

"Great! Great! Great! Go Renesmee!" exclaimed the Colonel ecstatically. "That's the way to go! Kick their ass!"

Lelouch found out for himself only a split second later when he faced the main screen.

Confirmation was indeed awesome. To put it short, Renesmee was indeed trashing the Xin Kuomintang's assault Guan Yunchang Knightmare Frames by the dozens and hundreds.

The horizon was filled with explosions – Renesmee's Lancelot was dashing across the badland, spinning its Slash Harken around, impaling, slashing, cutting, piercing, and punching its way through the mass of Chinese Knightmare frames. As her mech swiped all over the place, down fell the Chinese frames by the dozens. Behind her, the trail of destruction was more than obviously marked with the charred, dismantled remains of both men and mechs she had wasted in the last few minutes, forming a pile of wreckage as far as the main base's camera could still follow.

Lelouch had apparently missed the most dramatic phase in the battle, when the Chinese were caught by surprise, their morale freefalling at the sight of the goddess of devastation. By now, their entire rank was in shambles, the pilots in the first line breaking ranks and trying to make the run for it, only to be mercilessly cut down when the Lancelot artfully glided through them. Even for those in the second and third offensive line, still relatively calm enough to brandish their assault rifles and rocket pods, their presence were now completely made fun of, as their weapons failed to even graze, let alone damage the extremely agile Lancelot. Renesmee was basically waltzing through the lines of fire in a manner that the world had only known of via the legendary Suzaku Kururugi.

For the first time in his life, Lelouch actually felt a little sick in his stomach from the blatant waste of human life. Judging from how the Chinese never built their Knightmare Frames with escape pods, Renesmee was apparently racking up her kill count at a lightning-fast speed. Even without looking at the statistics, Lelouch could tell for sure that in the last few minutes, Renesmee had killed more men and women in the Army of the New Republic of China than her entire family had in his entire life. As for the helpless cream from the mass of enemies that Lelouch heard on his way up the chamber, it had actually gotten worse, and now thoroughly sounding as if thousands were wailing in unisons. It appeared that the girl he had taken in was a much, much more efficient and much less remorseful killer than his dear Kallen could ever hope to be.

Surprisingly enough, Renesmee was doing all that with just the quadruple Slash Harkens and the MVS, or a cleverly calculated combination of both. Had she knew how to operate the more advanced functions of the Lancelot Mk-II, she would have been able to claim a much, much higher kill count.

Or maybe she did.

As soon as Lelouch's eye lost count of Renesmee's kill count, the girl seemed to have made up her mind to start doing something dramatic. The next thing Lelouch heard was a loud boom, when Renesmee activated all of the Knightmare Frame's boosters, tossing her Lancelot into the sky with such speed as if ripping through the clouds and wind themselves, positioning herself some thousands of feet above the enemies. Before Lelouch could come to understand her motive, her next action was especially gasp-inducing. Renesmee was spreading the Lancelot's energy wings, for what purpose, every Knightmare pilot worth his salt could have known.

Massive overkill in the form of a rain of green energy bolt filling the battlefield.

As energy bolts rained upon the Chinese rank, the screams of terror, pain, or both seemed to have covered the entire horizon, only to be drowned out by the sound of hundreds, or even thousands of Knightmare Frames going up in massive blasts that filled the space of several kilometers with the flashing color of flame and explosions. It was similar to what Suzaku would usually do with his Albion, but only much more devastating in size and range, over a field much more tightly packed with enemy Knightmares. What the implications were, as in how many lives were obliterated in that attack, one could only hope the number wouldn't rise too high.

But it was only when the entire series of explosions has died down that Lelouch realized the full extent of the destruction. If anything was to prove that war is hell, that mass killing was the finest example. The devastation her energy wing charge had caused was such that it completely overshadowed the pile of Knightmare remains that she herself had left behind her MVS and Slash Harkens, evaporating anywhere from a third to half of the Chinese division and tossing what little fragments of morale the rest had down the drain. Perhaps it was the largest-scaled massacre of Knightmares that history had ever known, and disturbingly carried out by a little girl no older than ten.

"What the…" Lelouch felt like biting his lips as he stared upon the battlefield filled to the brim with brutally incinerated Guan Yunchang frames. "What is she doing?"

"Obliterating the enemies, of course!" Colonel Havoc said, his eyes dominated by ecstasy. "In my whole life I have never seen such a spectacular curb-kill battle! Not even a full-fledged GDI commando can unleash all that havoc on the enemies!"

Lelouch felt like swallowing something especially bitter without being able to spit it out. Of course he wanted Renesmee to succeed his unfulfilled Zero Requiem by force. Of course he wanted Renesmee to become an able pilot capable of both defending the Britannian Empire and then free his sister from the uneasy weight of her crown. But what she was demonstrating was clearly taking it too far – she was proving far too efficient a killer for her own good.

And that wasn't the only anxiety Lelouch had. Another, immediate matter came to his mind as soon as the explosions died down.

"The Lancelot Mk-II's Yggdrasil Drive hasn't yet been fully perfected to match the energy wing's power output," Lelouch mumbled as his eyes glued on the screen. "With all that attacks… she's wearing out the energy supply far too fast for her own good!"

Lelouch's anxiety was proving true faster than he thought. Renesmee's killing streak was suddenly brought to an end as the killer frame suddenly turned into a statue, with no warning. Apparently the last attack had drained the entire edifice of Renesmee's, or rather, the Lancelot's reserves. The result was obviously deadly to the young pilot – the Lancelot was frozen in place as a result, having been obviously deprived of even the basic energy to move, especially when the fact become known to friends and foes alike.

"Wait… what?" Colonel Havoc gasped as he stared at the Lancelot's motionless form. "Why is she standing still like that?"

"Damn… the energy supplies must have been depleted!" Lelouch rolled his eyes at the screen.

"That's insane! Standing in a battlefield completely paralyzed like this is…"

Colonel Havoc didn't even have time to finish his speech. The Chinese seemed to have understood the situation faster than Lelouch's lot, as they, first slowly and trembling, gradually picking up the pace and becoming more reassured, regrouped for a next attack when they realized that the scourge of the Lancelot was no longer functional. The fact that they were still somewhat frightened of the Lancelot didn't quite help Renesmee in this case, as they uniformly distanced themselves from the motionless hulk, drawing their heavy duty artillery pods for the long-range kill. Being the target of a multi-thousand-man-strong firing squad was not a comfortable sight, even less so when you are thoroughly disabled and couldn't even bulge a muscle.

It seemed that Renesmee's fate was sealed…

Or not.

"Borusu Ichishiki, Kenzan!"

The booming, fully spirited voice from a massive, industrial-scaled amplifier over the distance all of a sudden brought the entire background to a standstill. Before anyone could realize what was going on, from behind Renesmee emerged another Knightmare Frame, at least twice the size of the usual standard-issue Sutherland, and infinitely more imposing. The next thing to happen was the newcomer activating the Landspinner, gliding towards the enclosed mass of Chinese Guan Yunchangs at top speed, ignoring the thousands of artillery pods pointing at his direction.

And then there was a blinding flash as the new Knightmare Frame produced its own MVS, a shining weapon of the usual material, but with a blade three times the breadth and around six times the length of the usual MVS. When the Chinese rank of executioners realized what was going on, it was too late for any evasive maneuvers. The fact that they were so closely packed in the usual Human Ocean formation was definitely not helping, making it much easier for the newcomer to cleave through them by the dozens. When the huge Knightmare passed right through their ranks, it managed to leave behind a trail of Knightmares, or rather, Knightmare halves, in its path, all of which spectacularly exploded in the next second or two. The rescuer revealed itself behind the Chinese rank behind the explosions, the flaring flame shining upon its designs.

At first sight it appeared that the rescuer was one of an older model, judging from the size, lack of ceremonial designs, as well as the lack of a revolutionary Slash Harken launcher. But then, when Lelouch saw the extremely heavy-duty shields covering it from back to front, especially the humongous plate on its forearm, going so far as to completely block out most of its chest when it was in full stretch, he realized that he was observing the most powerful Knightmare Frame ever designed in action.

"What is this… hulk?" Colonel Havoc asked, still pretty much paralyzed from the suddenness of the appearance.

"The Bors Type-1," Lelouch replied, his eyes still glued on the overwhelming size of the frame. "The only known Tenth-Generation Knightmare Frame model. It's been developed for the past two year, but most of the research details were state secret of the highest level of clearance. As a result, the only thing we know about is its size, shields and the pot-helmet, decorationless-styled head."

"So it is supposed to be more advanced than our Lancelot Mk-II?"

"Much more," Lelouch nodded. "Only God knows what new technology they have incorporated within this frame..."

"Mind the odds, my king," Colonel Havoc returned to reality. "That is quite a huge rank of enemies – highly advanced technology may not be enough to win this batlle…"

"Round them up, boys."

The booming voice of whoever piloting the Bors Type-1 interrupted the colonel's train of speculation, before derailing it and knocking it completely off-track. Apparently the pilot wasn't alone in whatever he was doing. Behind him, or rather, behind where Lelouch's base was, suddenly churned up another row of Knightmares – Britannian ones – though still significantly smaller in size than the Chinese.

Vincents, but improved. Vincent Mk-IIs. Lesser cousins of Lancelot, revved up such that they out-firepower the generic Chinese rip-off five-to-one. As the noise of mass-charging Landrollers filled the air, signifying the total advance of the Britannian Knightmares, even the mentally challenged would realize that the Chinese invaders were in a big mess…

******

The battle was over before it had even begun.

No sooner than the first rank of the invading division, thoroughly battered by Renesmee before, crumbled under the renewed assault by the Vincents, than the remainder of the second and third line broke rank to flee the battle. The rout was devastating – apparently the Chinese engineers had underrated the mobility of their Guan Yunchang design, and theat mobility inferiority was being repaid with the blood of their men. Outrun by the pursuing Vincents, the escaping Guan Yunchangs were taken down, one by one, with relative ease on their attackers' side.

The Bors Type-1 was playing a pivotal role as well – holding one end of the valley firm, the already slow Chinese frames were cluttered together at the chokepoint, falling prey to both the Vincents and to one another. A large number perished only by trampling upon themselves – in Knightmares, unfortunately. All those who were fortunate enough to escape death were captured by the Britannian forces. The overall result was devastating for the Chinese: Out of the division-scale invasion wing, less than a hundred escaped with their lives and frames. The remains of frames and men and abandoned war equipment stretched as far as the eyes could see all over the battlefield.

The best thing to have happened was not only did Renesmee survive, but the Lancelot Mk-II suffered almost no damage at all. Renesmee's condition, however, was nothing to be celebrated. Only when the battle ended did it turn out that the Lancelot's malfunctioning was not because of an energy shortage, but rather because the pilot had fainted in the cockpit in the middle of the action. Whatever Renesmee was doing, the rigorousness of the activity was sufficient to knock the girl, previously not used to the experience of war, out cold, in exchange for the massive kill count she had racked up.

At least, Lelouch's base was saved with a close call of a battle. And Renesmee was not the only one he should thank. The second person responsible was being given due thanks, personally, by the ex-emperor of the Holy Britannian Emperor, in his command room – a certain officer of the Britannian Empire, contradictorily.

"We would have been killed had it not been for your timely arrival, Major Ingham," Lelouch said gratefully as he himself poured the said officer's drink.

The Britannian officer nodded, bowing respectfully as he received the cup from Lelouch's ghastly hand. The person addressed was a rather special member of the Britannian Imperial Army, Major Jack Ingham, the only member of the ex-emperor's personal guard unit, who, by his distinctive service in the war as well as his selfless dedication to the monarchy, been promoted from Master Sergeant to Major within the duration of a year, going so far as to be given a whole battalion-sized unit to command. An extremely skilled pilot who, had his skills not been overshadowed by the Knight of Zero, could have earnt a well-distinguished position in the Round Table. And perhaps the only one to still be loyal to Lelouch's ideals, even after all the purposefully terrible things he had done.

"It is our duty to defend our motherland," replied the officer humbly. "As well as it is a pleasure to serve Your Majesty."

"I'm not an emperor any more," Lelouch said. "Although I do hope that you know where your loyalty lies."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the officer replied with a military salute, as if cementing his statement, "I am forever loyal to the Holy Britannian Empire and its rightful rulers, not the usurpers of the Witenegamot."

"Very well," Lelouch nodded in approval. "I hope, then, there wouldn't be too much problem should you take Renesmee Cullen into the ranks of your subordinates, would there?"

"Not at all, Your Majesty!" reassured the officer. "I've seen her in action, and from the way she claimed so many kill counts just in an hour, I am sure she's bound to be the next Suza… Knight of Zero! Not to mention, the analysis of her other statistics were overwhelmingly favorable."

"Hopefully," Lelouch smiled. "Personally, do you think she can handle the Bors Type-1?"

"If someone can utilize the Lancelot Mk-II to such an extent," agreed the officer, "she would have no difficulty at all taking control of the Bors. To tell the truth, Your Majesty, even I am unable to carry out such awesome maneuvers with the Lancelot as she did."

"Her kill count was extremely favorable," Lelouch said, displaying a certain degree of anxiety. "Albeit, too favorable."

"Two thousand kills within an hour," the officer replied. "Maybe this is a blessing for Britannia to have recruited such a fine pilot at this pivotal stage of the war."

"Let's hope so," Lelouch answered. "As far as I know, she is quite…unstable, as you have seen. As well as being a psychological kid. You and your men may have a hard time trying to keep her under control, I suppose."

"Everything for Britannia, Your Majesty!" reassured the officer. "You can leave her with us – I swear upon my honor that she will become the best Knightmare pilot Britannia has to offer!"

"In the name of the sovereign crown of Britannia, I thank you for that, Major Jack Ingham," Lelouch said ceremoniously. "You are dismissed, Major – I entrust you with this difficult task."

With another firm salute, a military stature, and a serious look of one in responsibility on his face, the officer bowed to Lelouch, as he left the room, leaving the ex-emperor with himself, an empty teacup, and a lot of ponders in the room.

_"She's just a kid,"_ Lelouch thought. _"Just a kid… Not an excuse in war time, is it? But why… why doesn't it feel… right?"_

******


End file.
